ROBB I
In the midst of all the terribly-played music and the food and the gleeful conversations that were happening all over the hall, Robb Stark thought that his uncle Edmure's wedding to the Frey girl was a considerably joyful affair. Even when he couldn't be overly affectionate towards his wife Talisa, in fear that Lord Walder Frey might take it as an insult, he| found himself to be enjoying his time at the Twins. His lady mother had no reason to worry about anything, he reckoned. Nothing bad would happen that night. Except mayhaps a few drunken men fighting. He chuckled to himself at the thought, shaking his head as he dismissed the silly idea.
His gaze moved towards his uncle, who seemed very interested in his wife. The man had said over and over again that he would not marry a Frey, that he would never do that to himself, until everyone else around him had convinced him that it was the right thing to do, if they ever hoped to win the war. And now Edmure was completely happy. Robb would definitely tease him about it later, when he had the chance. Then, the young man turned his head to look at his wife and the babe that was growing inside her, smiling. He couldn't wait to be a father and form a family with his beloved Talisa.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Asked Talisa, cocking one brow at her husband and King. This only made him smile even more broadly.
"No reason," he replied. "You're just nice to look at."
His eyes kept wandering around the place, trying to find his mother, and for a brief second, he wasn't able to spot her. She was sitting right beside him.
"Mother, what's wrong?" Robb asked lady Catelyn when he set his eyes on her, noticing that she did not seem as happy as the rest of the people present. The look in her blue eyes was cold, as if she was trying to figure something out.
"Don't you see it?" She replied in a whisper. "They have men standing by the doors, like they do not want anybody going out. And Lord Walder and his sons are behaving far happier than they should. Even if he did force you to apologize for breaking your promise, that most likely wasn't enough to make him forget about it, yet there he is, smiling and jesting with our men." The music changed in that moment, in a tune that Robb didn't recognize, but the expression on his mother's face revealed that she very much knew which song this was. "They're playing The Rains of Castamere… Robb, there's something wrong here. I want you to go out and look for someone, anyone who can help us understand what is going on. My uncle has just gone out, perhaps he is the right one."
"What?" His mother was just being paranoid, there was nothing to worry about. She had to be kidding. However, the tone in her voice and the way she stared at him told him that she was being completely serious.
"Go, Robb."
It didn't take him long to stand up from his seat and make his way towards the door, claiming that he needed to take a piss. The two guards shook their heads and said he was not allowed to leave at the moment. This angered Robb. Why wouldn't they let him out? Maybe his lady mother wasn't so wrong after all. There was something strange going on, something he couldn't quite figure out yet. A small grunt left his lips once he tried to push his way past the guards, but they did not relent, so the Young Wolf had to use more of his strength. The two men hurried and tried to close the door, in an attempt to keep him from leaving. He did not let that stop him, and squeezed himself out of the hall as the door slammed close behind his back.
Many men were outside, most of them were his own. Those were all drunk. The rest, belonging to Lord Walder Frey, were walking around, holding weapons in their hands as they talked to one another, passing some sort of information along. The sad notes of the song his mother had recognized as The Rains of Castamere were easily heard even outside of the main hall. A cold wind ran past Robb, making him shiver. It was far too cold, a wind common in the North, not in the Riverlands. Everything seemed calm for a few moments.
And then everything became chaotic.
The Frey men began to murder the Stark men in almost every way imaginable: Stabbing them in the back, stabbing them in the belly, hacking their heads off, slitting their throats, slashing them through their entire torsos… Robb couldn't keep count of the many ways he saw his own men die at the hands of the Freys. Was this happening inside as well? Gods, Talisa… His mother… Had they been coldly murdered as well? He tried to open the doors, the need of finding both women and saving them if they were still alive was strong. But he wasn't able to do so. What about Grey Wind? Where was he? The direwolf had been kept in the stables during the wedding, but Robb didn't know whether his wolf had been able to get out, or if he was killed too. Banging his fists on the door, the King in the North screamed in rage. If he couldn't save his lady wife and his lady mother, he was useless. The screams of the dying men were all that could be heard in that moment, the smell of blood and death filling the air so terribly that he could almost taste it. The thing that he could feel the most, though, was the pain of knowing he was powerless to stop everything that was going on around him.
Somehow, he seemed to be invisible, for no one came to attack him. And he wasn't going to wait for someone to do it, so he ran across the camp, getting as far away as possible. His breathing was heavy, his eyes shifting from one side to the other in order to look for anyone who could attack him. It hurt him to leave his family behind, but he had to live, he still had to save as many of his men as possible on his way out. Not many had survived the attack, but the few who did and were lucky enough to find Robb followed him, and they all fought their way out of that wretched place, away from all the death and suffering. I don't know any of these men. He could not remember their names, and he barely recognized their faces. Nonetheless, they were his men, and he would stay with them.
What could he do now? Most of his army had just been slaughtered, his wife and his mother and his direwolf had most likely just been killed when all of them were supposed to be protected by guest right. The quick answer to that question: Go away, as far as he could. Go the only way possible. Go north. Go home. Not knowing how in the seven hells he would manage to return to the North, he ordered his men to follow him, and they escaped.
The rest of that night was a haze in Robb's mind, and the only thing he could remember about it was the way he shivered, the way he turned to look back every few seconds, hoping that no one had followed them. Even the progressively fading screams and smell got to imprint themselves in his memory. Nothing more. He didn't even remember how they had all ended up sleeping close to the river, hidden in between some bushes and trees. Nor did he remember when or where they had gotten horses to ride. All that mattered now was going back home. Only then could he sit and properly grieve and think about what he would do after this. He had lost almost his entire army, he had lost almost all of his family. Now only Sansa and Jon remained to him. Shaking his head, he kept riding. He couldn't allow himself to dwell in these thoughts now, not now.
He had to go back home.
