It's the longest Robb has ever been at sea, and he's not sure whose pacing starts first: his or Grey Wind's.
"No wonder your men were so keen to get rid of you - you can't sit still, boy," Brynden teases him, although the smile Robb gives him in kind doesn't quite meet his eyes. He knows it's unorthodox, that he's actually spearheading this mission. He doesn't know if it's a show of his men's faith, or a show that they've lost faith, that they're so willing to send him away.
Robb could probably dwell on that one question alone for the many weeks it takes them to get to Slaver's Bay. He also thinks if he dwells on it too long, he'll go mad.
Besides, there are many other things to dwell on.
Some things are worse . In his darkest moments, Robb dwells on what it must have been like for his father, just before his head was cut off. The terror Bran and Rickon must have felt, before Theon burned them and hung them from the castle walls. He wonders about Arya, and what cruel fate might have befallen her.
Most times, Robb's thoughts are more practical. He thinks about Sansa, and what they can do to extricate her from the Lannisters now that she is wed to one ( nothing , he thinks, bar defeat them entirely , but isn't that why he's going to meet with Daenerys Targaryen in the first place? ). He thinks about Edmure's wedding, and what support the Freys will have offered in exchange. He thinks that the letter he wrote was very heartfelt, and hopes it moves them to be particularly cooperative.
Robb especially thinks about what lies directly ahead of them, because he knows that that's the most important thing he can focus on for now. As he leans against the rails of the ship and looks out into the horizon, as he takes meager meals with his even more meager crew, he thinks about how they'll win the Targaryen girl to their cause and what their strategy will be when they return to Westeros.
Sometimes, though… Sometimes, Robb really allows his mind to wander to happiness he's not sure he'll ever be allowed to have. Happiness that he wants so badly. He thinks about his unborn child, Eddard if it's a boy, maybe Lyanna if she's a girl (although he wants to ask Talisa if she has any family names they should incorporate, too, even if he knows his heir should probably bear a strong, Northern name. But he hadn't cared about that when he'd married her, had he? So maybe Robb won't care when they name their daughter, either).
He sees beyond that, too, in his heart of hearts. Robb doesn't just see the one child, he sees many. Back at Winterfell, running around with Sansa's children, Jon coming down to visit from the Wall, winter come and gone and a dream of spring in the air…
It's not the full life he'd once expected to have, but it's the best life he can hope for, now. And he hopes for it so, so much.
He just needs this to go well. They'll be in Slaver's Bay soon, and they'll meet the Targaryen girl, and maybe, with her help, they will be able to make Robb's dreams of a peaceful life in the North a reality.
The further South they get, the more restless Robb is. He's not used to this sweltering weather, and he's always tugging off layers of clothing and clawing at the fabric around his neck, where sweat is pooling from the heat.
Grey Wind must be even more miserable than Robb is, with his body covered in fur, and Robb wonders if perhaps he should have left his wolf behind. Grey Wind is an extension of him, though, a piece of himself that he isn't sure he could have beared to part with, so he does all he can to make it up to him, being dragged so far from home like this. Robb sneaks him all the water he can manage, and doesn't summon him anytime he seems to have found a breezy, shadowy spot to enjoy.
Even his mother, the 'Southerner' of the group, seems a bit put out by how warm it is, but rather than admit as much, she reminds Robb that the warmer it gets, the closer they are to their destination.
"Besides, boy, if you think this heat is bad, wait until that Dragon Queen is lighting you up with her dragon fire," Brynden quips, and Robb is almost irritable enough to snap at him for calling him boy . He's his great uncle, though, and there aren't hordes of Northmen here to watch and view it as disrespect. There's only his mother, his wife, Greatjon Umber, and a handful of others. A small group, a loyal group, and Robb figures there's no group he'd rather suffer with than this one.
Still, he thinks that night as he lies naked next to Talisa below the deck, too hot to even want to make love to her, he might should take a detour to update his wardrobe when they dock in Essos.
Just when it seems like the voyage will never end, and Robb will be on a boat drifting through the waves of the Summer Sea for all eternity, the captain of the ship announces that they've entered into the Gulf of Grief.
Robb watches the land on the horizon, his antsiness turning into anticipation now that he knows they are close . Last they'd heard of Daenerys before they'd departed, she'd taken the city of Astapor and had been on the march to Yunkai. Robb knows their information is outdated, though; they've been at sea for more than a month's time, and he can only imagine how far the Targaryen queen has made it now.
But soon, he will find out . Just a little longer now, and they will make landfall, and then their true journey can begin.
His mother stands to his right as they edge closer and closer to port; Talisa is to his left, squeezing his hand. Although his wife is often keen to show him her affection, Robb suspects this time it's less an act of love and more to keep Robb from tapping incessantly on the railing.
He's not used to so long without inaction, and his impatience is showing. Grey Wind paces behind him, almost as if he's trying to help get out some of Robb's nervous energy.
But they are almost there. Talisa takes their intertwined hands, and moves them to her stomach, where the bump of their child has just finally started to show.
It doesn't make him any less patient, but it does remind him why this is worth the time it's taking. It makes him all the more determined to make this trip count .
True to his word, Robb takes the briefest of detours to clad himself in clothes suitable for somewhere so far South. It feels strange, shedding his greys and blacks and heavier layers.
Under different circumstances, the lighter, looser clothing might make him feel free .
But Robb's circumstances have not changed. He's not here for pleasure, he's here for the fate of his family, his home… of the entire Seven Kingdoms, really.
They find horses, and food, and what information they can about where Daenerys Targaryen is now, and then they begin the hundred and fifty league ride towards Meereen, where they hope to finally catch up with the queen.
Maybe a lesser man would be worried that they wouldn't get there in time, and they'd lose their chance. But the more stories Robb hears, the more faith he has. The freed slaves that are still here are in awe of the woman who has freed them, and who has freed Yunkai, and who Robb is confident will stay in Meereen long enough to free them, too. She is a liberator . Whatever else she may have done, no one seems to be able to speak of anything but that .
Well, that and her beauty. Robb wonders what she will be like to behold, but he doesn't wonder for too long. He's already got the most beautiful woman in the world at his side, and he's not here to gawk at Daenerys Targaryen. He's here to treat with her, and his small group pushes forward, as fast as they can travel with a woman more than three moons into her pregnancy among their numbers.
They stop in Yunkai to replenish supplies, though Robb knows they could have made it fifty more leagues without them. Really, he's just curious. He wants to hear more about the woman he's to meet soon. He wants to see the change that she's made in this place that he'd never seen before, but that he senses is better for Daenerys Targaryen having been here.
Maybe he's naive. Maybe he believes too much in people he doesn't know. But it feels incredible to believe in something, and Robb is going to relish it for as long as he can.
Besides… he's seeing the world . Maybe it's selfish to enjoy just being another face in the crowd here for the time being. Only his accent gives him away as Westerosi. His clothes are indistinguishable, his face is one no one has seen before - Robb is unrecognizable, insignificant, and temporarily at ease . His shoulders untense, he laughs in a way he thought he wasn't even capable of anymore, and he just basks in the anonymity while it lasts.
It doesn't last long.
They find lodgings just outside of Meereen. They have seen horrible things along the way, crosses with dried blood cakes on them, tiny graves dug beside them. They have heard whispers that Meereen is not bowing to the foreign queen the way that the cities before it have.
Daenerys is nearby now, though. All signs point to it - the tell-tale signs that an army has marched here not too long ago, the whispers of turmoil on the horizon.
Robb wonders if he will be able to help her take the city. Offer her a battle strategy, win her trust… He thinks he will fall asleep and dream of the meeting that waits for them, but instead, he tosses and turns beside Talisa.
After what feels like an hour of more of the same, his pregnant wife stirs beside him, and Robb worries that he is interrupting her rest. He is so eager to be a father, even more eager than he is to end this war, and he doesn't need to disrupt his child's development by keeping its mother from getting enough sleep .
Robb leaves Grey Wind upstairs, instructing his wolf to guard Talisa and the child, and he retreats to the common area downstairs. It's stifling, though, and Robb steps out into the night. He looks towards the city walls, and wonders where Daenerys Targaryen is now. Is she outside the walls, too, waiting for her chance to strike? Is she inside the city, trying to peacefully transition it from slavery to freedom?
Robb wonders so many things that he forgets to focus on what is immediately surrounding him. He is unprotected, in a strange land, in the middle of the night, and any number of terrible things could befall him.
He doesn't hear anyone come up from behind him; whoever or whatever they are, they are like a shadow in the night. Robb doesn't notice until an arm is wrapped around his throat from behind, keeping him from being able to cry out, and a bag is dropped over his head.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll come quietly, Robb Stark," a hoarse voice croaks into his ear. And he does, save for one word, whispered under his breath as he is pulled in the direction of a horse and tossed unceremoniously onto it.
"Grey Wind," Robb whispers into the night, too quiet for his captor to hear, as his mysterious kidnapper carries him off into the night.