She wasn't as beautiful as her mother, but somehow that was a good thing for Robb. For all his confidence and bravery, he had never been any good at talking to beautiful girls, even when they cooed and giggled over him and Jon looked sour by his side; and so it was a relief to find a girl he felt comfortable talking to.

She was a few years younger than him, slender and dainty, with the golden curls of Queen Cersei but the incredible arresting brightness of King Robert. Robb knew he would follow her anywhere from the first time she rode in on her horse.

He had heard that Myrcella Baratheon was in the Riverlands, but had hardly believed the rumours. He hadn't seen her since she was a child, visiting Winterfell with her father. A lot had changed since then, least of all the meaning of the words 'her father'.

Lord Edmure heard news that she had been spotted near the Trident, on horseback and alone but for one man, and Robb was quick to volunteer to go out and meet her, and bring her back to Riverrun for... well, they were calling it safe-keeping.

He set off early, with a couple of knights, to the forest where she had been spotted. The first flash of her gold hair was enough to alert him, and he saw her clamber onto her horse- straddling it, not riding side saddle, and gallop away after her guard, a dark-haired, deep-set man. Robb kicked his horse, setting himself to her speed before his men had even noticed what was happening. He cantered forwards until he was alongside her, and yelled at her to stop. She didn't answer, but kicked on her horse. They were alongside the river now, her guard a little way ahead, his behind, and suddenly Robb had a mad idea. He steeled himself and, seeing a deep patch to his left, leapt off his horse and into the Trident, grabbing Myrcella by the waist as he flew and- thank the Gods- dragging her into the water with him. They surfaced at the same time, coughing and spluttering, and Robb seized her hand in the water, his men catching hers on the riverbank behind them.

'Sorry, my lady,' he said, half-smiling at her grimace, 'You wouldn't stop.'

...

Back at Riverrun, she was given chambers and a bathtub, and a clean dress befitting of a maid, not a princess. It was Edmure's reminder that she wasn't a princess anymore. She was to be brought before him and Robb later, but first they had to deal with her guard. He was not treated so well, given a cell instead of a bath, but the moment Robb saw him dragged into the great hall, he wondered if that was a mistake. He was the spitting image of Renly Baratheon, but taller and stronger and younger- and alive. Robb saw his mother do a double take on the other side of the room, gasping quietly.

'What is your name, boy?' asked Edmure, who either did not note the resemblance or did not care.

'Gendry, milord, Gendry Waters,' the boy answered sheepishly.

'And why is a bastard escorting a princess?' Edmure asked, almost bitingly.

'She ain't a princess anymore, milord,' Gendry pointed out, 'She knew she was in trouble if she stayed in King's Landing and I offered to help her escape.'

'How did you know her?' Robb cut in, in a kinder, more interested tone than Edmure favoured.

'I'm her bastard brother, milord,' he explained, 'Lord Tywin was keeping me at the castle in case it came out I was... Heir to the throne.'

Edmure gasped, and Robb and Catelyn shared a look of unsurprised dismay that Edmure hadn't figured that out by himself.

'Milord-' said Gendry, taking advantage of the silence, 'Milord Stark, I- I travelled with your sister, Arya, I- I'm sorry I lost her, milord.'

'What?' asked Robb, confused, his mind suddenly throwing up images of little Arya- in particular, her on the back of a horse three times too big for her, with father's helmet falling over her eyes, her legs too short to start the horse so her mount eating from its trough.

'I- After your lord father... Was murdered, milord, Arya and I was going up to The Wall,' he told his story, about being captured at Harrenhal and then going on to the Brotherhood Without Banners, and finally Arya running away from him. He had no idea where she was now, and his despair at his fruitless search had led him to accidental capture by Lannister men, and thankfully Cersei's mad declarations that he should be executed were ignored by Lord Tywin. When Myrcella was punished for helping Mya Stone escape, she ended up in Gendry's cell, and through his strength and her ingenuity, they managed to flee the city.

It was Catelyn who went to speak to Myrcella, she and Robb having decided dragging the girl before Edmure and his bannerman was a bad idea, but Cat came back to her son five minutes later declaring, 'She will not speak to me!'

'What?' said Robb, standing from the table where he was sat, talking to Gendry, who he relished spending time with, just talking about Arya and his time with her. Robb had also found he liked Gendry: he was genuine and seemed a good man, and there was no one he would rather have been Arya's friend.

'The princess says she will not speak to anyone until 'Lord Stark' has apologised to her for throwing her into a river,' said his mother, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Gendry stifled a laugh, and Robb, who was still a little baffled, let a smile out. 'I shall go and speak to the Lady Myrcella then.'

...

She was his prisoner, but he still knocked on the door to her room before he got the guard to let him in. Myrcella was stood by her narrow bed, wearing the thin brown dress of a young serving girl who had died the previous month, her hands clenched into fists by her sides and her chest held high. Only a Lannister would manage to still be proud when so fallen from grace, and held in captivity.

'My lady Myrcella,' Robb said, bowing to her.

'Robb Stark,' she said, staring him boldly in the face.

Robb couldn't help but smile, and he looked down as he licked his lips to wipe the smile away.

'You know what I want, Stark,' she said, glaring at him.

'I'm sorry, my lady,' Robb said, clearing his throat, 'I don't know what you mean.'

She sighed heavily. 'Apologise, Stark! You threw me in a river!'

Robb laughed, at first a little snort building to a hearty laugh that only intensified when she growled in the back of her throat, her expression brutal.

He wasn't laughing when she pounced on him, clawing at his face, and the guard had to come in to fight her off him.

A/N: Title, if you're interested, is from Hear the Noise That Moves So Soft and Low by James Vincent McMorrow. His voice is heaven. Next chapter coming soon (and I actually mean soon because, honestly, I can't stop writing this fic).