It isn't until I've been in the camp for two months that he finally thinks to, or perhaps has the courage to ask me why I was walking outside the castle the night I was taken. It is on one of our nightly strolls that started the night after the Bolton boy approached me. As Grey Wind and I came out of the woods, we saw the king waiting for us at the edge of the tents. That night, and every night after, he walked me through the camp, pointing out different houses, thanking different men, the long way back to my tent.

"You were running away, weren't you?"

"We do not all come from happy families, your Grace"

"Do I seem happy?"

"No, of course not. But you have the anger of someone whose happiness was taken from them. You fight to get it back. I never had it, so I went to find it."

"Is Sans-"

"She's braver than you know. She… helped me escape. I tried to get her to come with me but she said that someone else had a plan for her – that she would get out on her own and that we couldn't risk being found together."

"Was she hurt?"

With that, I stop. I've never heard that sound from a brother's lips. The anguish at someone experiencing pain combined with the guilt at not being able to stop it.

"She has been hurt, your Grace. Joffrey is not a kind King and Sansa represents everything he fears. But she as grown in the time since you last saw her, she is no longer the girl who cares for gowns or embroidery. She is a true Stark. Know that."

"And how would you know what it means to be a Stark?" the king asks and for the first time I see how deep his hatred of my family goes.

"Whatever my parentage, I was raised by Robert Baratheon, your father's truest friend. Robert may have been a king but to him your father was a god. I grew up listening to stories of the marvelous Starks. The Starks who were tough and loyal and good. I know what it is to be a Stark because I saw every day the pain it caused my father that I didn't have Stark blood in me. He loved your Aunt Lyanna… and I saw that no amount of gold or breeding could make up for the Lannister's lack to him. I know what it means to be a Stark because I spent every night dreaming I was one."

When I finally finish there are tears in my eyes, the rush of emotions from speaking of my father and the disappointment I always felt I was to him leaves me winded. I would have fallen except Grey Wind, my closest friend, leans up beside me to help steady me.

When I finally have the courage to look at the king I see there are tears in his eyes as well.

"Oh please your Grace, I didn't mean to upset you"

"You didn't. I just regret…I regret a great many things. One of which being that neither of our fathers will get the chance to see the woman you have become."

I look down at my feet and find myself squeezing Grey Winds fur. When I finally get the courage I look up at him again. I feel an electricity that has perhaps always been there but has only now sparked to life.

"I am just grateful that you do, your Grace." And with that I lean down and kiss Grey Wind's head, and before I lose courage stand on my tip toes to kiss Robb's cheek before ducking into my tent.

And once again, without any understanding of how I know it, I know that it is a very long time before either of them move.

The next morning, I wake up to the camp in chaos. Men are running everywhere, the whores still asleep in their tents. Horses are being saddled and swords sharpened.

I go to the main tent where I run into the king's mother. Though she has never been cruel to me, I have kept my distance from her since I have arrived, knowing the pain that my family has caused hers. But now she embraces me as if I were her own child and says, "He's coming…Robb…the king has ridden out to meet your Grandfather. He knows that we have you and he has brought an army to get you back."

"What?" I screech, "I must go to him at once."

"You are not free to go, princess. You are the king's prisoner and this is war."

"But these men will die because I was afraid of Joffrey? These men will die because I couldn't bear to live there? These men will die because I couldn't do my duty to my family? Where is the sense in that? How am I worth that?"

"You aren't." she says bluntly. "A daughter isn't worth 30,000 sons. Most daughters aren't worth one. But two men say you are - and they happen to be the ones who lead the armies."

"Lady Stark…you have to let me help, I have to do something."

"You're good at stitching, I've seen it. We'll need someone to dress the lighter wounds, as our doctors will be too focused on the large ones. But small cuts can lead to large infections that spread. Can you do that? You don't faint at the sight of blood do you?"

At this I smile a mirthless smile, "I was raised at the Lannister court, Lady Stark, I'd sooner faint at the sight of gold."

In all my life I couldn't remember being this tired. I felt an ache in my bones and a tension in my shoulders that were the only reminder that time was passing. I had stitched what felt like a thousand wounds and dabbed hundreds of brows with cool towels. Being in the Riverlands, the one thing that was not in short supply was water thanks be to the gods.

It was Lady Stark who finally came to relieve me. I had just stitched a Tully boy, Warren who had been knocked unconscious by accident as someone raised their axe. I looked in Lady Stark's eye and saw the same weariness I felt, but also saw, for the first time, something that bordered on respect.

"We've – er…the king has won. Your grandfather has retreated and his forces have been cut in half."

I breathe a sigh of relief that immediately feels like treason.

"And the king…is he?"

"He's just meeting with his generals. He was unscathed."

"Thanks be to the gods."

She smiles at me and turns to leave.

"Lady Stark?" as she turns around I ask "Is…is Grey Wind okay as well?"

"Not quite." I feel a sadness rip through me until I see her smiling.

"That hellhound was drenched in blood, I forced him into a bath. I believe he is licking his entirely metaphorical wounds near the main tent." Before I can ask she says "Go. You've earned a break".

I want with every ounce of me to stop what I am doing and go find Grey Wind, maybe lie down in the shade and feel the safeness I feel with that great beast. Bu all around me men and boys, my countrymen, lay hurt and confused and alone.

"I'll stay. There is more work to be done."

I am stitching the Blackburn boy's arm (a nasty slice from Lannister steel) when I hear them behind me.

"I can't get her to leave. I tried to relieve her hours ago but she shooed me away!"

"She shooed YOU away. I would have loved to see that!"

"Don't sass me Robb, you may be King but I am still your mother, and that girl was raised a princess. She has been dismissing people since before she could walk."

I wipe the stray blood and put an ointment of my own creation on the boy's arm to numb the wound and then finally turn to my audience.

"Your Grace" I say and sink into a deep curtsey. Grey Wind immediately comes over to me and starts trying to lick my hands clean. It is only then that I realize they are covered in blood. "I- I hear that congratulations are in order".

"The men fought well… so did your grandfather's. Your brother was not there."

"No…Joffrey does not fight those who can fight back."

"I've been told that you treated my mother disrespectfully."

At that I blush "I..I'm sorry your Grace I didn't meant to off-" and when I look up at him earnestly I see the dimples from his smile.

I go to shove him and trip over my own feet. Bracing myself for a fall I am surprised when I feel two hands gripping me. Turning me around as if I am made of feathers, he supports my back and neck with his hands. Looking down at my earnestly, his brow furrowed he says, "You have worn yourself ragged. We must get you to lie down."

His eyes looking into mine are the last thing I see and I absentmindedly reach my hand up to his cheek "so beautiful" I hear myself say as my world turns black.

I wake up to a gauzy screen over my eyes. Lifting my hand I find it is a cold compress, like the ones I had pressed to hundreds of soldiers' brows. I remove it slowly, letting the afternoon sunlight creep in. I try to lift myself up.

"Slowly, slowly my dear" I turn and see Lady Stark fluffing up my pillows to support me.

"What happened?"

"You fainted from exhaustion and dehydration, princess. Do you think you can drink something?"

"Y-yes" it is only then that I feel the fire in my throat, flaming in thirst.

She holds a cool cup to my lips and I sip eagerly "slowly, slowly, you don't wan to flood your body."

"I'm so sorry – I hope I didn't take you away from soldiers who needed you more than I. I am so weak" I say as I feel angry tears flood my eyes.

"WEAK? You stood and helped for 21 hours without food or water or rest. You stitched hundreds of wounds and provided aid to boys who would have been otherwise left to suffer."

I hadn't realized that Robb was seated in the corner until his outburst.

"Your Grace…I didn't see you. Please don't fuss over me, my grandfather could…"

"Your grandfather has fled south with his generals. It will be weeks before he strikes again."

"Oh… well still… you must…"

It is Lady Stark who interrupts me after some indecipherable moment is shared between mother and son. "I will go see to some food, princess."

"See if the cook has prepared any honey cakes…they're her favorite."

I want to tell them that they shouldn't worry about me, but the emptiness of my stomach silences me.

Robb stands awkwardly by my bedside before I shift to give him room to sit. He sits cautiously, as if he is afraid I might turn and run.

"You…you fell so quickly…I was so afraid you might not wake up." He says as he pushes a lock of hair from my face. His index finger tracing the side of my face as if unable to stop itself.

I close my eyes at his touch. I have never been touched like this.

"I am sorry to have frightened you, your Grace. A hostage is one thing, but a dead princess in your care would have rallied men from every corner of the seven kingdoms."

"Yes… I told myself that is what I was afraid of. I told myself that every second of the four hours that you lay unconscious. I told myself that to stop myself from focusing on the sound of your breath. To distract myself that my world rose and fell from that sound."

I somehow find the courage to meet his gaze. "Your Grace…"

"Robb, please Myrcella call me Robb. I need to know that…"

"That what?"

"That I am not just a King to you."

At that I burst out giggling.

"You forget, Robb, that I am the daughter of one king and the sister of another, .Both of whom proved that being a King is not holy nor does it only go to the deserving. Both of whom taught me the transience of the position. Both of whom taught me how dangerous it is to be close to a King. Everything I feel for you is in spite of you being a King."

"And what is that…?"

"What is what?"

"What do you feel for me, Myrcella."

"I-I shouldn't say your Grace."

"Robb."

"I shouldn't say Robb."

"Since when do you do what you're supposed to?"

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

"Would it help if I told you what I feel for you? You almost said it once. You remember right? The night the Bolton boy threatened you. You told me that Grey Wind was a part of me, which is why he was so protective of you. You told me that you knew that there would never be anyone so ready to come to your defense than I. And you were right, I do feel a responsibility for the lives I take in my control, but you were not right about why I feel protective of you." He sighs to himself as if he is trying to get the words exactly right.

I take hold of his hand.

"I remember when you came North with your family. You were what…eleven at the time? I remember thinking that I had never seen anything so delicate, so refined as you. That was until Joffrey hit Tommen. You were taller than Joffrey then and you said that if he hit your little brother again, you would make sure he knew the pain and shame he inflicted on others. Joffrey hit you then, across the face, you had a mark the rest of the trip…I think you told your father that you had tripped over an errant branch. But you didn't flinch. You simply smiled at him and walked away, pulling poor Tommen along with you. I remember seeing you at dinner that night, refusing to hide your scar, laughing with Sansa, and I remember thinking that you were like a diamond. Beautiful and rare and so indestructible, so ardently strong. I remember thinking then that I would never know shame like I knew from not protecting you from Joffrey then. I planned to one day ask my father to speak to yours about a marriage. Yes, I wanted to bring you North to keep you from Joffrey, to protect you, but more than that I coveted your beauty and your strength. Then my father was killed by your brother, and I remember it felt like two lives were stolen from me that day. The life I had had with my father and the life I was meant to have with you. But then you were brought into my tent. Once again you were with men who wanted you dead, but you were not afraid. I knew then that my jewel, my brilliant and beautiful and strong jewel was back, and I was never going to let anyone take you away again."

I sit there stunned. To hear that he had loved me for the past five years, through all the blood and the war and the pain. To hear that he loved me for my resilience and not my title. I didn't know what to say.

"But none of that matters if you don't feel the same. If you don't feel for me what I feel for you then I will not force you to be with me. You will always have my protection, but you will only have me if you wish it."

There are no words for the feeling I felt in that moment, so I did the only thing I could think that would make sense of my emotions. I leaned in and kissed him, my first kiss. It was like my world shifted in to focus in that moment. I felt him hesitate at first, not understanding what was happening, but he made up for lost time as his hands found my hair, cupping my face as he kissed me slowly, opening my lips and my heart all at once.