Robb

The Great Hall of the Twins was roaring with the noise of drunken Northmen and the screeching music of the band. Robb's head was pounding with every beat of the drums. His head was spared any further harassment when the Lord of the Crossing raised his hands for silence.

"Your Grace," said the old man, his thin lips flapping open and shut," the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been spoken, and Lord Edmure has wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife."

Walder Frey turned to face where Lord Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey sat on the raised dais. Robb could see tears flowing freely from Roslin's big brown eyes. She's been crying all night, Robb thought.

Walder Frey continued with a smile," A sword needs a sheath and a wedding needs a bedding! What does my sire say? Is it meet that we bed them?"

Robb pushed his chair back and stood up, he was ready for this night to end," If you think the time is meet, Lord Walder, then by all means let us bed them." As soon as he said the words a chorus rang out from the crowd.

Bed them! Bed them! BED THEM! The festive guests soon swarm around the Lord of Riverrun and his lady wife, men for Roslin and women for Edmure. From his seat, he could hear Marq Piper making ribald jests to Roslin as the men hoisted her up. Robb pushed his seat in and went to join the men taking Roslin to her marriage bed. She's still crying, poor thing.

Robb thought back to his wedding. Compared to his uncle's wedding, his was a dull event. He had just learned of Bran and Rickon's death at the hands of the turncloak, Theon Greyjoy. I was in so much pain, Robb thought. His brothers' deaths had hurt worse than the quarrel he had taken in his shoulder. He was in so much pain and the milk of the poppy made him so confused and Jeyne had been so beautiful in the twilight. He married her the following morning. He had forsaken his honor that night.

He exited the Great Hall with the other northern men. As they reached the stairs to carry Roslin to her marriage bed he felt a small tug on his cloak. He turned around to see one of his men breathing heavily, red faced from running.

"Sorry to bother you my lord but I have an urgent message for you."

Robb turned around to see that the party carrying Roslin had left without him.

"Say what you will, soldier," said Robb.

"A man is at the gates claiming to have the Princess Arya."

Robb looked at him," Where is she?"

"On a cart at the gates. She's with a very tall cloaked man in mail."

"Thank you ser. Please take this message to my lady mother in the Great Hall."

The man bowed and went. Robb started his way toward the gates. His sister was near.