Robb's forehead was slick with sweat as he pried himself away from the fifth -or was it sixth?- daughter of Walder Frey he had danced with that evening. Normally he would have welcomed the distraction of a feast and some dancing, but he didn't know how much more of this he could take. The desperation of the older daughters to impress him was off-putting, to say the least. If he had to listen to another one of them drawl on about how well they could manage a household, or about their latest needlepoint projects, he may do the Lannisters a favor by driving his own sword through his chest.
The barely-contained smirks of his family members did not go unnoticed by Robb as he sank back into his seat at the head table. Shooting them all a pointed glare, he drained his goblet of wine and immediately refilled it. The alcohol was helping to make the whole endeavor bearable, though he knew he couldn't loose his wits, lest Lord Frey talk him into marrying off another of his siblings.
"I see my Daella is tardy once again," Walder muttered grumpily once Robb had finished his wine. Robb had noticed that the beauty of the Freys was absent from the feast. Much too quickly, actually. He had found himself scanning the table of Walder's children as soon as he entered the hall, much to his chagrin. Was it really this easy for him to push Talisa from his mind? The thought aggravated him.
Robb nodded in response, but felt the need to provide an excuse for the young woman. "You know how beautiful women are: they like to make their own entrance," Robb whispered the same line he had heard his father use on the rare occasion his mother was ever late to a meal. It seemed to placate Walder for the time being, and the older man went back to talking with Catelyn.
A few minutes later Robb was desperately trying to avoid the eyes of yet another possible bride when the door to the hall creaked open. In walked the very person he was just discussing, though she wasn't alone. Just behind her trotted Grey Wind, the dire wolf nearly large enough for the petite woman to ride upon. Robb's eyes widened as he watched Daella lead Grey Wind through the throngs of people, most of whom gasped and jumped aside, acting as though nothing was off. She found a seat at the table with her siblings, filled a glass of wine for herself, then grabbed a large bone from a platter of meat and offered it to the wolf. He accepted it happily and laid at the woman's feet.
Robb was gobsmacked. Never had he seen his wolf interact with anyone besides himself in that manner. Was this supposed to be a sign for him? Were the gods telling him that Daella was the one destined to sit beside him as Queen in the North? He shook the idea from his mind. He had never been one for signs or prophecies. But the fact that his closest companion seemed to be taken with the young lady had sparked more of an interest in his mind.
When Daella left the stables it was already dark and everyone who had been invited to the feast was making their way to the dining hall. She knew she needed to change her dress, so she started towards the living quarters of the castle. As she passed by the guest rooms, she noticed one of the doors was open. She only noticed that after she caught sight of the huge wolf laying beside the open doorway, as if he was guarding it. Deciding to take a different route to her room, and attempting to not appear afraid as the wolf stood up, Daella backed away. To her horror the wolf matched her pace, following her down the hall. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest and she didn't notice that she was backing herself into a corner until it was too late. Her back pressed against the wall, she closed her eyes tightly and braced for the wolf to attack her. What she felt, however, was a wet nose prodding her hand. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the wolf calmly standing in front of her, looking right back at her with curiosity.
Now that she wasn't completely terrified, she remembered the tales she heard from her siblings about The Young Wolf. "He turns into a wolf and tears his enemies apart," her brother, Bromley, had informed her. The thought made her smile and she held out a hand to the wolf. After a quick sniff, he lowered his head and allowed her to sink her fingers into his thick fur.
"You're not all that bad, are you?" she whispered to him, and he tilted his head in response. With a smile, she stepped away from the wall, intent on getting to her room to change. "You go back to your room. Go on." She motioned with a 'shoo' gesture, but the wolf simply stood where he was. With a shrug, she walked away, only to hear him follow. She turned and placed her hands on her hips, and he simply tilted his head once again. "You have to go back. I have to hurry to this silly feast." It became apparent that the animal wasn't going to leave her be, so she continued on with her task, him trailing just behind.
By the time she changed and reached the dining hall, she had grown used to the wolf's presence and actually enjoyed it. The looks he drew out of people as they passed amused her greatly. It was obvious to whom this wolf belonged, and she was hoping that the king would look negatively on her arriving to the feast with his companion. Perhaps he would think she was more trouble than she was worth.
As she drank her wine and ignored the comments from her siblings, her eyes met those of the man in question. He appeared shocked and she smiled in response, tipping her glass in a toast toward him. She turned away after he returned the gesture. Before she could begin a conversation with her siblings, she felt the presence of someone standing behind her. The low growl of her newest friend confirmed the arrival of a guest.
"Good evening, my ladies," Roose Bolton greeted the oldest Frey girls, whom were grouped together at the end of the table. A shiver ran down Daella's back at the sound of his voice. She had had the unfortunate experience of meeting the Lord of the Dreadfort twice previously and both times left her with a sour taste in her mouth. His cold eyes on her body always felt wrong. One of her worst fears was her father choosing him as a suitable husband and sending her off to the Dreadfort to rot.
"My lord," Daella echoed her sisters in their greeting, each of them standing to curtsy. She kept her eyes focused on her shoes, hoping to keep his attention off her, but his finger was quickly under her chin. Tilting her head up so their eyes met, Roose gave her what she imagined was the closest thing he would ever come to a smile. It was more of a forced grimace and his eyes remained cold.
"Would you do me the honor of joining me in a dance?" He phrased it like a question, as if Daella had a choice, but they both knew she didn't. If she refused, her father's head might actually explode with anger. With a meek nod, she accepted his arm and let him lead her into the sea of dancers.
As they twirled around to the beat of the music, Roose's grip rough on her waist and hand, Daella attempted to keep some semblance of distance between them. It seemed at every opportunity he would pull her close to his body, though, and it wasn't long before she discovered the reason for his sudden infatuation.
"You father has given me leave to take one of his daughters as a wife," he coarsly whispered to her when they were close. "After our King in the North makes his choice, that is." The way he spoke of the Stark man irritated her, for some reason. It was as if he was mocking Robb's title. A quick glance at his face revealed a sneer, confirming his lack of respect for their king.
"Whomever you choose as a wife would be honored, my lord," Daella forced the words through clenched teeth, for she didn't dare show any sign of disrespect to this man. The story surrounding the conception of his bastard son was enough to make any woman shudder.
Roose hummed in response to her empty compliment, gripping her waist tightly once again. "If the King passes on you as a wife, you will be the next Lady of the Dreadfort." As the song ended, he pulled away from Daella, bowed and left her slightly shaken on the dance floor. Just as she was regaining her composure, a hand settled on her shoulder.
"Are you okay, my lady?" Robb Stark's deep, but gentle voice met her ears and she instantly spun around. He had a concerned look on his face; no doubt he had seen the spectacle that was her and Lord Bolton's dance.
Daella found herself in a humbling position. She had spent this whole day wishing to do nothing but deter Robb from choosing her as a wife, that she didn't stop to think about the alternative. Ryder was right when he told her they would never end up together; they were cursed to be born too far away on the social ladder. Now she was faced with the threat of becoming Lady Bolton, a title she would rather die before bear.
After a brief hesitation, Daella dipped into a low curtsy. "I'm fine, your grace. Thank you for your concern." She was sincere in her gratitude, and also surprised by his sympathy. Not many people in her life genuinely cared about her well-being. Most of her siblings, Bromley excluded, saw her as competition for their father's attention. Her father viewed her as a bargaining chip to better his own hand and her mother had passed when she was young.
"Would you...?" Robb motioned to the dancers, holding his hand out for her.
With a nod, Daella accepted his hand and allowed him to lead her into a slower dance than she had just finished. She noted how much more comfortable she instantly felt with him. His hold was gentle yet she knew he would never let her stumble and fall.
"Did he upset you?" Robb whispered so only she would hear. Though the other dancers were giving them a wide berth, it was obvious that anything spoken between them wouldn't remain that way.
It took her a moment to realize he was asking about Lord Bolton and she quickly shook her head. He gave her a skeptical look and she bit her lip. Dare she speak out against a Lord?
"He was telling me that my father has given him leave to choose a wife," she answered finally. It was the truth, after all. Even though Robb seemed like a trustworthy young man, one couldn't be too careful in this world.
She felt the muscles in Robb's back tense under her hand at her words. "And what were your feelings upon hearing this?"
"That any woman would be better off throwing themselves from a cliff before they join that man in marriage," Daella whispered vehemently before she could stop herself. Her eyes went wide but before she could apologize, Robb's loud laughter filled her ears. His mirth was contagious and soon she was laughing along with him, completely unaware of the smirk on her father's face.