I don't own the GoT characters, only my OC's. This story will somewhat be in the style of a film called "Flipped." The movie featured the same event but was told from the boy's perspective and then from the girl's perspective; in a similar fashion, this story will feature the same/similar events but from different perspectives. It will not be a day-by-day retelling of things but mere instances in what leads them to marriage and thereafter. If you have a particular instance you'd like to see both perspectives of then please feel free to tell me and I'd be happy to write it. Cheers! Oh, I will also be taking some liberties with the GoT timeline.
How They Met: Robb
"Riders your majesty, at least a dozen." At the sound of Greatjon's voice, Robb looked up from the map of the Riverlands he'd been studying. "From the banners, it looks to be the Frey's."
Robb spared a glance towards his mother before he straightened to his full height and joined Greatjon by the open tent flap. He blinked against the noontime sun and shaded his eyes in a similar fashion to Greatjon before he could see the riders the man spoke of. He didn't have to see her to know that the knuckles on his mother's hands had whitened at Greatjon's announcement. She knew as well as he that this could bode well for them, or quickly turn ill. Their recent victories against the Lannisters had allowed them the time and relative peace to focus on the arrangement between himself and Walder Frey. However, he'd only just informed his mother two days before of his intention to marry Talisa and break with Frey. He was still reaping the silent treatment from her as a result of that—it seemed that being king didn't stop his mother from treating him like a child from time to time, or (if he were honest) from acting like one herself. No others, aside from himself, Talisa, and his mother knew of his intentions towards Talisa, though according to his mother it was quite obvious to his bannermen that something had changed about his intentions towards the Frey's.
Surprisingly, Talisa had been the one to question him first. While she made it clear that she was not averse to the idea of marrying him, she'd warned him of the impulsiveness of this decision, of the consequences that could reach far beyond just themselves. His mother had taken a more direct approach and had asked if he really wanted to throw it all away for the warmth and comfort of a woman. In hindsight, he'd perhaps overstepped his bounds as her son when he'd told her that she'd not understand his situation, since the love she'd had for his father had developed over time. He remembered the hardened, near pained, look on her face as a result of that comment and had for a moment regretted saying it; but then again she'd more than once overstepped her bounds as his subject and abused her position as his mother. That would have to change if he was to command the respect of all the houses of the north as their true king once this war was over.
"I've a bad feeling about this." Greatjon murmured by his side. "I've never known the Frey's to come out to greet guests before."
Robb dropped his hand from shading his eyes and nodded his agreement. To have representatives of the Frey's arrive now, so soon after his private announcement to his mother of his agreement with Talisa, seemed less than fortuitous. They were still a few days' ride away from the Twins and he'd had every intention of bringing his Uncle Tully with him to renegotiate with Walder Frey. There were ways, he'd argued with his mother, to still have the alliance and meet the terms set by Frey, if not by his marriage then by one from his household. She hadn't seemed convinced but it seemed that he would not have the opportunity to have that particular discussion now.
He watched in silence as the riders slowed their pace at the edge of camp. They dismounted and, after inspection and introductions, were led towards his tent. Talisa was busy tending the wounded on the opposite side of camp, so he didn't worry about an untimely arrival on her part. After that night together, the point of no return in many cases, it had been difficult to keep his hands and mind off her. Hence the reason for her absence now; he intended to follow the old ways and maintain abstinence from her for at least two days before their union. She deserved no less than that. Thus, because of that, he'd not spoken to her nor seen her, and he desperately missed her. Perhaps that was why he felt more anxious than usual now.
Greatjon crossed his arms over his chest as the Frey's drew closer and Robb mimicked his stance when he noticed that the Frey's were clad in battle gear. They had stated earlier that they would await the union between himself and one of Walder's daughters before they announced their loyalty to one side or the other in this war. To see this group approach him now, in such a fashion, had him looking over his shoulder to his mother. He shook his head in warning. She immediately stood and moved to the other side of the tent, her body tense and at the ready. Her recent additional swornsword, Lady Brienne, had approached the tent at the same pace as the newcomers and as Robb widened his stance to face the newcomers head-on, Lady Brienne came to a stop just to the side of Lord Umber.
Once they were within speaking distance, Robb's men had them stop and he watched with some curiosity as the majority of the newcomers voluntarily removed their helmets and stiffly bowed their heads in respect. It seemed that the leader of the group was less inclined to do so and instead stood with a hand on the hilt of his sword and the other hand hovering over the sheath of his dagger.
"You face the King of the North, Frey-man," Greatjon growled at the leader of the group, "you'd best show some respect." The large bannerman shifted his weight as if he was about to move forward to force such respect from the man but Robb raised his own hand to stay him. He was curious as to why this man before him would be so bold.
"The King of the North faces a member of his future family." The voice they heard from inside the helmet was undoubtedly female and they all paused with equal confusion as the woman's hands moved from sword hilt and side towards helmet; then, with swift movements, the helmet was removed. The woman shook her head of shoulder length dark brown hair before flicking her head to the side to get it out of her face, revealing decidedly feminine features, not altogether unpleasant to look at but far from great beauty. If she was indeed a member of the Frey family it was to her credit that she took after the non-Frey side in looks. He watched as she placed the helmet under her arm, much in the same fashion as a soldier would do, and bowed her head ever so slightly in his direction. "My lord King Robb please allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Sascha Royce, eldest daughter to Lord Walder Frey. I am here to accompany you to my father at the Twins."
He had no way of knowing just how many daughters Walder Frey had and he was not so updated on the political marriage alliances as his mother, therefore he hadn't expected to be met with someone connected to the Royce family. He didn't know overly much about them, aside from their creed and banners; Robb found it strange, then, to realize that this woman and her men had ridden in under the Frey banners and not Royce. He was struck dumb just long enough for the woman to raise an eyebrow at him in an expression not unlike amusement. At this, Robb shook himself into action; he bowed his head in return and gestured for the Lady to enter his tent. They had much to discuss before they were to go anywhere and the discussion would be best done within the tent, away from prying eyes and spying ears.
The lady signaled her men to stay where they were before she preceded him inside. He in turn gave Greatjon a look and without having to say anything the man cleared out and took the rest of Robb's counsel with him. When Robb turned to move back inside the tent he nearly walked into Lady Royce's back. She was as tall as he and without her armor he wagered that she'd have a similar build to his own. With the armor he couldn't tell if she'd have any semblance of femininity to her body or not but he didn't bother with wondering. Glancing over her shoulder towards him, she noticed his sudden proximity and immediately stepped to the side so he could come in further, the tent flap falling closed behind him. He looked over to see his mother moving forward.
"Lady Royce, my mother Lady Catelyn Stark." Lady Royce again bowed her head in an almost masculine way while his mother shifted her weight in a polite curtsy. "Please, have a seat Lady Royce. You must be tired after your ride." Her movements were stiff but eventually Lady Royce sat on the edge of the chair he indicated while his mother readied three glasses of water for them. "Your father need not have sent you to escort us, we are but a few days' journey from the Twins."
Robb felt his stomach grumble with anxiety at the look of amused incredulity Lady Royce gave him over her shoulder. Somehow he knew this meeting would alter everything.
How They Met: Sascha
It was difficult to pinpoint at what moment she'd thought this would be a good idea. It certainly hadn't been that morning, or the morning before that, or before that. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she'd never thought this was a good idea. Just the right thing to do. In this world, if she'd learned anything from her husband, the right thing to do was rarely a good idea to follow through with, namely because few others did the right thing as well.
"You're certain we should follow through with this, milady?" Her captain, Wolfred, asked, his hands tightening on the reins of his horse to keep the excited creature from breaking into a trot.
Before answering, Sascha eyed the camp on the plains before her and her men. It was sprawling to be certain, a testament to the strength of Stark's forces, and also evidence to the loyalty his people lavished upon him. They were well over a month's ride away from their homes, and should things suddenly turn dark they would be cut off completely and left to die. This did not seem to deter their enthusiasm for victory though. The numbers they'd faced down so far had been stacked heavily against them, and the resources they had access to were significantly less than what the Lannister's had, and yet they'd persevered. They'd taken Jamie Lannister himself captive after the Battle of the Whispering Wood, and later continued their victories with the Battle of Oxcross and also the Battle of the Yellow Fork. Her father claimed it was a fool's war, but she disagreed. The Starks were winning because they had more to fight for than gold and glory like the Lannister's; they were fighting for justice after the brutal murder of Lord Eddard Stark and the hostage taking of his daughters. So while the war was not a good idea, it was the right thing to do.
Her father was too far removed from King's Landing to fully understand these things, at least not as she did. He persisted upon seeing the world as he wanted, with only the Frey's stability in mind. He cared not for justice for others, only the coffers of his own keep. She, however, had seen what a lack of justice could do to men, seen far too close to ever forget, and naïve though it may be to still believe in good triumphing over evil, she felt it in her bones that the Starks could, and should, win out in this war. There were few redeemable things involved with the Lannister's, in fact she could count two redeemable qualities within the Lannister's, and any war they fought in was a war that should be lost to them. If they did win, then let the White Walkers return and bring with them a brutal winter over the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.
"Well, milady, do we proceed as you indicated or do we turn back?" Wolfred asked again, his horse stomping at the ground as the other horses had begun to do, all accurately perceiving the nervousness of their riders.
She nodded and reached to pull down the visor of her helmet, "We proceed as planned." She raised her arm and lowered it, nudging her horse into a canter with her men following suit.
She knew they'd be spotted within seconds of moving out from the wooded area they'd paused in and indeed, even from their distance, she saw the guards at the edge of the camping moving into closer quarters, in case this was an attack. Sascha had told her men to wear battle gear in case they met with any Lannister stragglers, and also she wanted the Starks to know that they were serious with what they were about to say—or at least she wanted them to take her seriously. As a woman, it was entirely possible, and probable, that they would toss aside her petition/demand as fanciful and go on with their assumed decision, at least as the reports stated—as disastrous as it'd be. She was accustomed to not being taken seriously. Even when she'd proven herself talented and capable as a child, her father had downplayed her abilities and passed off her accomplishments as flukes or praised someone else. It had only after she'd married Robar that she'd learned that it was possible for a man to respect a woman. She was now drawing upon those lessons she'd learned from her late husband to spurn her forward.
As they rode closer, Sascha reflected back on what had been inside the reports and began to prepare her line of argument. She'd never met Robb Stark personally, and had only barely glimpsed Lord Stark whilst he'd been alive at King's Landing, but the Starks were renowned for their stubbornness and argumentative natures—a trait of most northerners. If there was no clear-cut evidence, then the notions put to them were typically set aside, or at least that is what her husband had told her of the Starks after it'd been announced that Eddard Stark would be the hand of the king. He'd predicted, and rightly so, that a wolf and a lion could never live peaceably together; they both were too territorial and naturally dominate to be able to coexist. Lord Stark's beheading and the Lannister's grab for further power were proof of this.
Remembering Robar's words, Sascha mentally sighed. Sascha did not mourn her husband as woman in love might have. It was true, that a friendship, an affectionate kinship, had built between Robar and herself over time. Though he'd been loyal to his father and had married her as he'd been instructed to, just as she'd married him as she'd been ordered, she bore no ill will towards the man for his lack of initial interest in her—it was equally true that she'd jumped at the chance for freedom from her father. The first few months of marriage had been a sort of hell, mostly due to the expectations they'd put upon one another, and only after a time had they been able to heal from those first months. It had not been his fault that he was unable to perform a husband's duties, the results of a tourney injury but known only to herself and her husband. It had also not been his fault that he lacked his own convictions and instead held those of his father, or Renly Baratheon's, or any man's who deemed himself stronger than Robar himself. He'd had a kind heart towards her though and had treated her with respect; he'd encouraged her once secret education and had relished their lively debates over dinner.
The irony that he'd died at the hands of another woman was not lost to Sascha, who had been accused of sucking the life out of Robar with her sharp mind and lack of wifely piety. She did not blame Brienne of Tarth for killing him, it had been a fair fight and she had clearly been the better fighter. Robar would've preferred to have died that way in any case, spared a lifetime of questions after his virility and capabilities as a man. That Lord Royce had not clearly indicated her welcome or unwelcome at their castle after Robar's death had allowed her the choice of either remaining with him as a widow or returning to her father with the intention of remarrying. She had not relished the idea of wandering Royce's keep like a forgotten wraith any more than she'd liked the idea of living under the same oppressive roof as her father, but she had her sisters to think of and so had decided to return. That had been but months before. It was good that she had or else this meeting, and possible avoidance of disaster, would never have happened.
They slowed their horses as they drew closer to the edge of the camp. Again she reviewed the facts as indicated in the reports: multiple sightings of close meetings between the king and another woman, understood to be a highborn woman of the name Talisa Maegyr, with some evidence that the king was shifting marital alliances from the Frey's to Talisa Maegyr; a purposeful delay in returning to the Twins and assumed contact between the king and his Tully kin, amongst whom was an unmarried uncle. This led Sascha to believe that the agreement between her father and King Robb was threatened and she feared what it might do to the king's cause, and his people, should this occur. She knew her father well enough to know that he was not above making an alliance with the Lannister's and arranging for some dastardly deed to be done in repayment for such a betrayal. As much as possible, Sascha hoped to avoid such a fate.
Wolfred made the introductions to the guards at the edge of camp, understanding that she would remain silent until they were before the King of the North. She led the way through the camp, however, all the while reflecting back on the many times she'd witnessed her father's brutal retaliation, to kin and enemy alike, whenever he'd been betrayed. She could not stand idly by and allow this to happen; if King Robb did betray her father then yes he did deserve to reap the consequences of his actions, but she knew her father would overstep what would be considered rightful repayment of such actions and an entire kingdom could suffer the consequences.
She looked up the slight incline they'd begun to climb up and saw the king's tent. Just outside it stood a giant of a man, powerful arms crossed over his chest. He was too old to be the king, and too large. She knew the king to be five years her junior and from the reports she'd had he should be of amber colored hair and of her stature. One of the guards blocking her view moved and indeed there the king stood, his arms also crossed over his chest, his legs slightly wider than his shoulders—as if to make himself look more formidable. Sascha almost tripped over her feet when she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes and realized that it was none other than Lady Brienne of Tarth. How had this woman gotten mixed up with the Stark campaign? After Robar's death, Lady Brienne had come to Sascha and had in her own masculine way attempted to compliment Robar's fighting skills—her way of apologizing for killing him, mayhaps. There were no hard feelings in Sascha's heart towards the Lady, but it was still jarring to see her now.
They stopped a few paces away and her men immediately began to take off their helmets. Lady Brienne drew to a stop to the other side of the giant man at the same time. Sascha knew she should remove her helmet as well and yet, she wondered, if it would not be more in her favor to have the king or his men request or demand her to do so first. Let them think her an audacious man only to find out she was instead a tenacious woman. She had not the capacity for lying and cheating that many of her bastard brothers had but she had inherited a good nature for scheming and that was about as useful.
"You face the King of the North, Frey-man," The giant man growled at her, almost startling her with his aggressive tone, "you'd best show some respect." When she didn't immediately move in response he uncrossed his arms and shifted his weight as if he were going to forcibly remove her helmet for her but then the man beside him, the king himself, held up his hand to stop him.
She studied his features, unable to deny the handsomeness of his looks, before she steadied her mind and replied in a loud voice, "The King of the North faces a member of his future family."
Before she reached for her helmet she saw a look of shock cross the king's features and smiled to herself at the sight of it. So far things were in her favor. She reached up and unceremoniously removed her helmet, shaking her unruly hair out of her face. She'd followed House Royce traditions and had cut her hair as a sign of mourning after Robar's death and now it was at a most awkward length, always getting in her way and never cooperating. She tucked her helmet under her arm and gave the king as polite a nod as she knew, previously uncertain if she should bow or attempt a curtsy. Wearing armor solved her problem however, and rendered it near impossible to do either without looking like a fool.
"My lord King Robb," the king's face was still registered in a state of shock and so Sascha further took advantage of this to introduce herself, "please allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Sascha Royce, eldest daughter to Lord Walder Frey." At her father's name she thought she detected a hint of surprise in the giant man's face out of the corner of her eye but she kept her eyes steadfast on the king's face. Lady Brienne's stance, aggressive previously, had relaxed; but she was the only one who had done so. All the other soldiers standing in front of her, including the king, remained tense. "I am here to accompany you to my father at the Twins."
The king remained still and unmoving, his face unchanged from when she'd first removed her helmet. Sascha found her shock tactic pleasantly reassuring and so allowed her slight amusement on the king's behalf to show on her face when she raised an eyebrow at his lack of response. This must've prompted a change as within seconds of her doing this he bowed his head and moved to the side, indicating that she should enter his tent.
Sascha turned and gave Wolfred a look, not having to say anything to have him understand that in no instance were he or the others to come into the tent unless she called for them. They'd discussed the plan at length prior to coming: she'd talk to the king, he'd most likely want some time to decide, then they'd either escort the king and his men back home or they'd…well they'd never come up with a second plan. Wolfred was in favor of kidnapping and/or killing the king as retribution but he'd always been a bit more bloodthirsty than Sascha.
With this understanding between them, Sascha turned back towards the king and moved past him to the tent. She stopped just outside the entrance and looked over to Lady Brienne. She nodded her head and was rewarded with a similar nod. She wanted the Lady to know that nothing untoward was about to occur. She then turned her attention towards the interior of the tent and allowed her eyes to adjust the sudden shadows. It was noontime outside and the sun was stronger than normal for this time of the year. The tent was well equipped for a king's war tent: table with map laid out on it, a bed in the far side, numerous chairs and benches. Near the bed on the far side of the tent Sascha saw a woman, undoubtedly his mother from the similarity in looks.
Before she could give a greeting she felt a presence come close behind her and realized, suddenly, that she'd yet to move from the entrance. She glanced over her should to see that it was the king, staring at her as if she'd taken leave of her senses. She fought a blush and ducked her head to hide it as she stepped to the side so he could come in further, the tent flap falling closed behind him. They were sealed in, then, and she would not leave until all had been said and a decision made. She swallowed the lump of anxiety that suddenly made its home in her throat. She had to press onward and upward; there was too much at stake.
"Lady Royce," he had a melodic voice, not too thick with the northern accent but thick enough to make it exotic to her ears, "my mother Lady Catelyn Stark." Sascha bowed her head to the woman while his mother shifted her weight in a polite curtsy in return. "Please, have a seat Lady Royce. You must be tired after your ride." She lacked usual female grace even out of armor but the added weight of the metal made her movements even more sluggish. Eventually she made it to the chair he'd indicated while his mother readied three glasses of water for them. "Your father need not have sent you to escort us, we are put a few days' journey from the Twins."
Sascha waited until after Lady Stark gave her the water before she replied. "Oh, but he most certainly would have felt the need to do so, after he heard the troubling reports sent his way." She did not give into the desire to study mother and son as she spoke and instead kept her voice calm and even, her eyes on the contents of her cup as she continued. "Reports of a possible threat to the marital alliance between our houses." As if to punctuate this statement she allowed her eyes to slowly move from the swirling contents of her cup to meet the king's and she was struck by the intensity of their color; steely blue, cold as the man himself appeared to be. "You see my father is not a very trusting man, often given to fits of paranoia, and he always acts with extreme caution." After glancing at Lady Stark and detecting a hint of apprehension she quickly added, "I am being forthright with you, lord king, with the hope that you may repay my honesty with some of your own."
His eyes had widened for a hair of a second when she'd first dropped a hint of accusation at his feet but once she'd finished his eyes and stance had returned to a dismissive nature. "I do not know of what you speak." This said he turned his back on her and moved to the far end of the table before he took his own seat, setting his glass on the table. It was as if he wanted to put as much distance between them as he could; perhaps out of guilt or perhaps because he found her presence so offensive. "What was in these reports that were so troubling, and that lay such accusations upon me? I would know of their origin."
She studied him for a moment, disappointed that he'd chosen to stall, her eyes flicking around as they studied his face—he looked young and inexperienced but handsome nonetheless—before she took a sip of water and placed her own cup on the table as well. There was no use in hedging around the matter. She had to plunge into the icy waters now that she was here.
"You must know that you are on Frey lands and that the people you pass, the people who have extended their hospitality to your men and yourself, have been Frey as well. Anything and everything that they have seen has been reported back to my father ever since you first laid foot in this area." He opened his mouth as if to argue and so she hurried on before he could, "I mentioned before that my father is overly cautious, far from trusting, and often paranoid. He has these reports from all who pass through his lands; you have merely curtailed further attention from my father given your present quest."
His jaw tightened in response, as if he were holding in what he would rather say and instead replied with a curt, "Well, I ask again, what was in these reports that would be so troubling that the Lord Frey would see fit to send his daughter, clad in battle armor, to meet his ally beyond the walls of his keep?"
She detected hints of incredulity and perhaps mockery in his voice, as if he found her very presence to be a jest. When she looked at his mother, however, she saw no such notions in her eyes or gaze. The woman instead appeared to be on the edge of a precipice, holding her breath to see if she were about to fall or not. Sascha knew she would be the one to push the woman over the edge, or save her from it, depending upon how the king responded to her next words.
"He did not send me, lord king, I came on my own." She watched as he exchanged a look with Lady Stark before he returned his attention to her. "Those men are not my father's, they are my own, left to me from my late husband, Ser Robar Royce." This was all true. Lord Royce had given these men, Robar's closest soldiers, the option of remaining with him or remaining with her. A strange arrangement, as the rest of the household had whispered, but they'd chosen her and that had been the end of it. During her marriage with Robar, they'd all been privy to her talents and capabilities, thanks in part to Robar's encouragement and support. They believed she was a woman worth following. She now hoped she could continue to live up to their expectations. "We rode under the Frey banners with the understanding that you would welcome us as allies."
The king shifted in his chair and one of his hands disappeared beneath the table in response to her statement, "What are your intentions then, milady, if you have not been sent by your father?" His voice held a dangerous quality to it and she felt the hairs on her arms raise at the sound.
"My intentions, majesty, are the same as I stated before your tent, to escort you to my father. Nothing more and nothing less. I, unlike some I have become acquainted with, do not make false statements or mislead with my intentions." The intended barb was sent out but she was unable to gage if he caught it, her eyes darting towards Lady Stark for a moment, looking for any recognition of her intention. She saw a flash of guilt upon the woman's face but when she looked back to the king she saw only coldness and no remorse. Sascha sighed and leaned forward, resting her weight on her elbows. "My father did not receive the reports I spoke of, I did. I have recently returned to my father's household, after mourning my husband's passing, and I intercepted the reports before they could be relayed to him. After reading these reports I saw wisdom in riding out to meet you before my father could see them himself. I was only able to delay them until my successful return."
"Successful." The king rested both his hands on the table and laced his fingers together as he too leaned forward, "What would make your return successful?"
She mimicked his movements, even though she knew it would most likely goad him, and also laced her fingers together, her gaze never wavering. "You and your forces returning with me. Unless this happens, in two days' time, I cannot stop the contents of the reports from reaching my father's ears."
If it were at all possible for his eyes to narrow more, his voice to grow more dangerous, or his face to harden more, it did. "I ask again, milady, what was in these reports?"
She glanced at Lady Stark. Surely she knew of what she was about to accuse the king of but she wanted to give her the chance to leave. When the woman gave no indication of budging she mentally sighed and leveled his gaze back upon the king, "Let us speak plainly."
"I thought we had been." He interjected.
She frowned, though she had to fight the urge to smile; it seemed that perhaps he had a similar sense of humor to her own, dark though it may be. "Well then I'll hedge no longer." She mustered up the rest of her courage and rushed forward with her words. "Have you or have you not taken Talisa Maegyr into your tent?"
The king surged to his feet, his chair threatening to topple over, "How dare you ask such questions. You have no right-"
"I have every right." She also stood and faced down his ire with her own previously bottled up frustrations. "You swore an oath to my father to forge a marital alliance between your house and his. You then used Frey bridges and Frey provisions to aid you in your war against the Lannister's. If the reports are true, now that victory appears to be yours for the taking, you have negated on your oath and seek to renegotiate in order to free yourself to wed another." His hardened expression fell into one of shock. The arrow struck home then and her fears had been confirmed, even if not with his words then with his reaction. "Can you deny these things, lord king?"
"What you have accused King Robb of just now, were what were in the reports?" His mother asked when he did not immediately answer and she nodded her head in confirmation. "And you said your father has not seen them yet?"
Sascha did her best to soften her voice. She was not a hard woman, she did have sympathies and empathy, but there was no way to soften facts. "No, Lady Stark, he has not. Not yet. However, they will be conveyed to him should I not return with King Robb himself by my side, the alliance still standing between the Starks and Frey's. I do not think I need to warn you that my father is not above repaying betrayal with betrayal. Anyone less than King Robb himself as a future son-in-law will be seen as a betrayal and my father will repay in kind."
"Are you threatening us?" Robb growled out his question, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword.
She also dropped her hand to her sword-hilt, more out of instinct than a desire to fight. She was not the best fighter in the world with a sword, most assuredly not to the degree of Lady Brienne. But growing up with bastard brothers for the most part, who all enjoyed mischievous ploys, had caused her to learn a thing to two. Then with Robar's schooling, she'd learned how to defend herself more readily. "I am conveying facts, King Robb. I felt you should know these things before you made a decision you could not reverse."
"Why," his mother stepped closer, her hands clasped tight in front of her body, "why are you telling us this?"
Sascha sighed and for a moment closed her eyes. "I know the nature of my father and I know the reputation of my family." When she opened them she looked to Lady Stark. Sascha had not known her own mother—she'd died not long after giving birth to Sascha—and she wondered if her mother would've acted like Lady Stark or not. "I have not been away so long to have forgotten these things. I also know what my father is capable of if he feels himself betrayed." She moved her hand away from her sword and rubbed at her wrist before she looked up and gave the king her full attention again. "You have fought battles and won, and indeed the war could be over soon. So many have died already but thus far the killing has remained, for the most part, on the battlefield. Should you not follow through with your oath, I can guarantee you this: the killing will no longer be on the battlefields alone."
Robb stared at her a moment longer, the shock, the anger, all of it retreated into a look of neutrality. She could not perceive what it was he was thinking. "I would ask to speak to my mother alone now, Lady Royce. My men will see to it that you and yours are looked after until we can meet again."
The deed done, and expected deliberation about to start, she nodded and turned to leave. However, there was something tickling the back of her mind and she knew she could not leave until she spoke it aloud. So she paused at the entrance to the tent and spoke over her shoulder, "If it is true, about the other woman, then know that Walder Frey cares not if his future son-in-law has mistresses a plenty. He merely wants a marriage alliance to secure his power and cares not for the vows of fidelity said between spouses."
She left them then, to deliberate and discuss, all the while hoping the decision would be a wise one. Wolfred met her outside and she shook her head. He grunted and turned to rejoin the rest of her men standing near a copse of trees at the end of the camp. Sascha made to join them but was stopped by none other than Lady Brienne herself.
"Lady Royce." Brienne bowed her head in greeting.
"Lady Brienne." Sascha returned the greeting. "It has been some time since we last saw one another."
"Indeed m'lady." Brienne looked towards the tent then back at Sascha. "I wish we could have met under less troubling circumstances."
Sascha chuckled, surprising the larger woman. "It appears, however, that every time we see each other, it is under 'troubling circumstances.'"
Brienne's lips quirked into what could be described as a wry smile, or a grimacing one at least. Sascha continued to share the strange humor with the woman until she heard movement behind her and turned to see the king step out of the tent. His gaze immediately honed in on her position and he gestured for her to return. Sascha took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to whatever gods existed that all would be well.