Here I am, on I go. Once more any help and writing suggestion are welcome. Please recall the disclaimer and the warning about FLUFFY romance. Hello to the madness of swooning.

Chapter Three – And Heir to the North

In the grey light of the next morning Robb Stark tried to busy himself. He tried to keep himself from giving into the pull in the pit of his stomach, drawing him towards the girl's door. According to one of the nurses' morning and midday reports the girl, Myra, had slept all through the night and would probably continue to do so for the next few days, maybe even weeks.

Grey Wind was no better than Robb. The way his wolf paced and jittered before the young lord set his teeth on edge. He found the wolf's nerves too much for his own and urged his four legged companion to go hunting outdoors to expend the excess energy that appeared to be buzzing within him.

Just before supper Robb had been about to give in to his desire to see the girl, to have a chance to be in her presence again even if it was just for a moment, when Maester Luwin called him away to the growth just inside of the godswood, stating his mother had discovered something to do with Bran's fall. Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Isles, as loyal hostage-cum-ward to the Starks, and Lord Rodrick, as Master at Arms of Winterfell, had already been brought to the meeting place. Robb did not doubt that Grey Wind was also somewhere close by; a part of him could always sense his wolf.

"What I am about to tell you must remain between us…I do not think Bran fell from that tower…" As his mother began to speak of Bran and her plans to visit King's Landing, Robb could feel his fury at the Lannisters growing. All he could hear flow in and out of every one of his thoughts was the word 'war' and all he could feel within himself was all of the hard sentiment behind such a word. However, when his mother uttered the word herself, Robb suddenly felt the full burden of what such an act would mean. He thought of stories his father, his uncle, his King told.

Tales that had once been filled with incredible glory, marvel, and passion for him... for all everyone in Winterfell, now bought dread forward to clutch at his entire being. His mind wandered to his Myra in a room in the castle beyond the godswood. For some reason he felt deeply troubled by her loss, her grief, her hurting. She had lost her mother, a mother who had been otherwise unknown and who had held no significance to anyone but her own daughter. And now Robb could not help but think of all those who remained unmentioned in his ancestors' ballads of glory. Who of importance to an unmentioned someone had been needlessly lost on the whim of a selfish overload? War. Unneeded death. Death. Once something far away and easily digested became something he could feel the weight of himself. And it was heavy, difficult thing.

"Mother." Robb spoke softly breaking her tirade against the Lannisters. She looked fearsome and wild, as Robb would naturally expect. He himself was half Tully, and did not fully know himself the lengths he would go to in order to defend his family, though he was aware that the extents were great. Though this family devotion did not exclusively have to do with the Tully side of the family line, Robb was certain that the deep love he held for his family had as much to do with his father as it did his mother.

His brother Jon was proof of that.

"May I speak with you alone for a moment?" He sent meaningful glances to the three others in the godswood clearing.

"Yes. Of course Robb," she spoke, her voice much more calm. "If you all give us a few moments…" she nodded her head towards Winterfell. He three men bowed their heads, and turned back for the castle walls.

Robb looked at his mother, who seemed to relax in the absence of the others' presence. "Mother," he spoke quietly, bringing her to sit next to him on a fallen mossy log. "Are you all right?"

His mother turned her head sharply with an incredulous expression on her face. "Robb..." she muttered, suddenly looking older and smaller than Robb had ever remembered seeing her in his life. She held the palms of her hands out before her, so that she could examine them. Robb followed her gaze to the scars, still pink and healing. He thanked the gods that there was no infection and Maester Luwin for his quick working alchemy.

He reached out clasping her left hand in his own, he gently ran his fingers between the marred skin of her palms and spoke softly, with care. "I know mother. I know your pain. For Bran. For father and Sansa and Ayra having to leave. It is for myself I add Jon..." he felt her stiffen at the name, yet he held her hand where was and continued "... to this list of people who are torn away from us in some way… I feel in me the same urge as you to fight battles for my loved ones, but consider before you do anything rash the loved ones of others and the pain of those torn others that comes with war…"

"Robb…"

"Do not misunderstand me mother," he inhaled deeply, shifting his grey eyes to meet her own blue ones. "I would readily and gladly go to war for my family, if that was the only option and available course of honourable action, but so long as innocent lives can be saved I would have them be saved…"

Robb watched his mother. Her eyes flitted down to her palms and then back to her eldest son's face. Her mouth curved into smile of relieved admiration. "Oh my beautiful Northern boy," she whispered, raising her free right hand to brush his unruly hair away from his forehead. "When did you become a Lord? I can hardly believe it here sits my son…my son now become a man…" he mirrored her smile, releasing her hand from his grip. "I do not think I could be more proud…"

"You are my mother," he nudged her side playfully, before continuing. "I doubt I would have this shape you take such pride in had it not been for you."

She traced the lines on her right palm with her own fingers. "I understand what you are saying Robb. A battle between the Lions and Wolves would be onerous to say the least. I…" she sighed, and her shoulders slumped forward, "I won't act on the Lannisters in any irrational fashion. But I do need to go to King's Landing to inform your father… there is some form of treachery afoot here Robb and we have to prepare and defend ourselves."

"I agree. Winter is Coming… though I would feel easier if you did not go yourself or at least took more men with you.

"No Robb." She shook her head firmly. "It must be this way. While we may not be going to war it would be foolish raise suspicions amongst easy enemies."

Robb huffed out a breath of exasperated air. "You Tullys are stubborn..." he stated with mock distaste.

She laughed lightly. "No more than you Starks, my love." Her countenance transformed as she scanned her son's face. "Something's changed in you though Robb, truly I see it in you. Even from yesterday you are…altered…"

"Altered?" He frowned slightly.

His mother nodded slowly. "That girl you and Theon found in the fire on the night Bran was attacked. How is she?" His mother had yet to lay eyes on the girl as Bran had been consuming each one of her waking moments.

"She…? I've only spoken to her briefly. She is still very weak and healing." As he spoke he barely noticed his mother's features change. Just barely, but he did notice all the same.

"What is it mother?"

"Nothing my darling boy. You said that you spoke to her…when? Is she awake now?"

"Last night, for the few minutes that she was conscious. Maester Luwin believes with the remedies she is being given and the healing she has left to do that she will be mostly asleep for the next few weeks at least."

"Did you learn anything of interest?"

"Only that she has lived completely isolated in the North her whole life and lost the only mother and family she had ever known in the fire. She knows nothing, even of herself, beyond that."

"And she has a direwolf as well? The one that howled that so loudly that night…"

"Yes, her name is Silver," Robb's frown deepened. "Perhaps they'll become the new fashion in Northern household pets…" he half teased.

"Perhaps…" she smiled warmly at her son. "What is her name?"

"She told me it is Myra."

"Myra?" She nodded, bracing her hands against her knees standing up, Robb followed his mother's suit. "No last name?"

Robb shook his head. "Not a legitimate one at any rate…" He began walking his mother back to the castle so that she could start planning the details of her journey to King's Landing. Robb wondered as he walked with his mother if lying to a person and keeping something from a person were not in fact the same things.

The day had begun again and Robb found himself back in her room. From the very first night he had failed in staying away from her. Though he did try to deny himself each time rather than simply admitting defeat to what he was sure was his personal weakness. In the weeks following the evening that his mother left for King's Landing, Robb's visits to her room had increased. It went from four times in those first four days, then twice on the fifth day, to three times in a day, to now. Now, where whenever he needed a sense of calm he would rush to her room. He did not know what was happening to him. With each visit her found himself moving closer to her side, with each step he advanced he felt himself reach a deeper level calm and peace. To say he found the serenity addictive would be an understatement.

Grey Wind did not have Robb's problem in approaching the girl. Almost immediately upon entering the room the male wolf would be laying over either Silver or Myra or both. If Robb was in search of Grey Wind he would not have look any further than Myra's room. And with this, if anyone who knew Robb well enough was in search of him they would know to knock on Myra's door and that they would be half likely to find Robb answering their knock.

Though she mostly remained unconscious, she had moments of wakefulness or so her nurses told him. As he watched her resting peacefully, he realized he had come closer to her than ever before. Silver raised her head from Myra's lap and from beneath Grey Wind's neck she peeked up at Robb. He gently stroke the space between the she-wolf's eyes. It appeared to Robb that Silver had the same sort of affection for him as Grey Wind did for Myra. That was very clear from the first night that they had met, when Silver had neither flinched nor attacked, as most direwolves would have when he had approached Myra for the first time. The smaller wolf had actually rubbed herself against his legs as he carried Myra to safety, snarling only when startled by Theon's approach.

Robb looked now to the girl sleeping. She had yet to wake again in his presence, and he found himself feeling sad for it. He did not only want to look at her, he wanted to speak to her, hear her voice and her thoughts. See her smile. Smell her hair. Without allowing for any true thought Robb acted. His fingers curled into the loose soft silver blonde locks spread out against the pillow behind her head. He leaned down only to take a sniff, but instead he had been struck with the most intoxicating scent of nirvana. Where had this come from? Like a blast out of the blue…

By the gods! His knees weakened under him, he was surprised he was able to stand at all. Was this woman a witch? He supposed that this would be what being bewitched would feel like. He wanted live in this smell. The wanted to exist in the safe haven this girl offered. He wanted to bury himself beside her, in every pore of her. Not for any bodily pleasure, but more to feel whole.

He heard small cough from beneath him. Robb froze for he was unsure if he was imagining the sound. Then… "My lord?" As small, distinctly female and markedly confused voice asked.

"Oh seven hells…" he murmured against her sweet hair.

Again I do like help, so any at all that people could offer me would definitely be appreciated.