AN= I own nothing, GoT belongs to GRRM and HBO.

Chapter Four

Frieda, the Lady of Shadows

When Frieda woke up that morning it was with a pleasant ache between her legs. She sat up from the bed and looked at the man she had shared it with. The man was of a cadet branch of House Buckwell of the Antlers, located north of King's Landing. He was an older man, probably in his forties, with dark hair that was greying, and had quite a large belly. Despite that he was good in bed, or so Frieda thought anyway. She brushed her hand through her dark blonde hair and carefully got out of the bed. It was just before dawn, so she had time to get where she needed to be. She did not need to be quiet as she had put a small drop of nightshade into the man's drink before he went to have her again. He was enjoyable, but Frieda did not let him have her for pure pleasure. She had spent time with him to learn about what he knew of Littlefinger. Marlon Buckwell was a minor lord who served his cousin, the current Lord Buckwell. Marlon was visiting the capitol on business for his House, which involved working with Littlefinger. During the night Frieda learned about a small warehouse that Marlon Buckwell owned and had loaned to Littlefinger's agents. That she had learned while he was thrusting himself into her as she lay on her front, with him behind her.

She may have enjoyed her time with Marlon, but she had need of rest before going to the Red Keep. She put the nightshade into his wine cup and when he fell asleep she took some rest herself. It would be rude of me to not share his bed until I needed to go to the Red Keep, she had thought. Frieda left Marlon's bed chamber and went to the solar where her clothes were scattered. She put them back on before she quietly left the manse, pulling the hood around her as she walked away to the Red Keep. It took her an hour and a half to reach her destination, and that was with her running. Once she was there the sun had begun to creep up on the horizon. Entering the servant's part of the Red Keep, Frieda made her way to her own quarters, where she quickly brewed some moon tea for herself. Marlon may have pulled himself out of her before spilling his seed each time he took her, but Frieda was not one for taking chances. After spending a couple of hours getting herself cleaned up and drinking the tea, she dressed in servants attire before making her way along the corridors of the Red Keep.

Frieda was half way to the kitchens when she saw a young boy run up to her, carrying a scroll in his hand. Frieda stepped into an alcove and waited for the boy to approach her. The boy must have been about seven or eight, and had short dark hair and equally dark eyes. His face was filthy with muck. The child looked up to her and held the scroll out to her.

"The Spider has need of you," he said. "He requires your discretion in regards to your new task." Frieda smiled sweetly at the boy as she took the scroll from him. She placed it into her pocket as she heard a couple of guardsmen approach. Giving the boy a quick wink to let him know what she was going to do, she looked over her shoulder to see two men in Baratheon colours walking her way. She grabbed the boy and began to drag him away, with the boy putting up a fight, or rather pretending to. "Please, I'm so hungry," the boy said, his voice pleading. With a stern face she looked back at him.

"I don't care boy," she spat as the guards walked past them, one of them glancing at them before shaking his head. "If I catch you down here one more time I'll feed your hide to the hounds, do you hear me?" Once the guards were around the corner she let go of him and smiled at him. The boy returned the smile before scarpering off. Frieda walked in a different direction to where she was initially going. Once she was outside she looked around to ensure that she was alone. Walking behind a tree she removed the scroll and broke the seal before unrolling it. She held the scroll and read its contents.

My dear Frieda,

I must inform you of your new duties my girl. The Lord of Winterfell will be arriving shortly with his household, which as I understand it includes his two daughters and his second son. Curiously his bastard son is with him as well. I need you to watch over them and report to me all of the Quiet Wolf's activities, which shall be easy for you to do as you will be working as a servant for them. Spare no details please. I must know where the Lord Stark's loyalties truly lie. As always burn this letter when you have read it.

Varys

Frieda folded the scroll and placed it back into her pocket. So she was to spy on the Starks now. Silas will have to be told of this when he returns. Once she was sure that she had not been spied upon she walked back into the keep, making her way to the kitchens. She works there for some time, helping to prepare some of the food before she is dismissed and told to go to the courtyard where Lord Stark was to arrive. Frieda wanders away, walking fast to her destination. Once there she is approached by a senior servant.

"You must be Frieda?" he asked. Frieda nodded her head to him, acting like a nervous girl. "You must remember that you will be working under the Lord Stark as a servant. Being in service to a highborn means you must know how to curtsey correctly. Now show me." Frieda did not like this man. He came across as being too pompous, but she had to do as she was told. Frieda bent her knees as she lowered herself, dipped her head forward, and spread her arms out slightly to either side. The senior servant observed her with a scornful look. "Not the best I have seen, but it will do. Now come with me." Frieda followed the man as he led her to where the Starks would arrive.

They had stood there for only ten minutes when a man on a horse entered the courtyard. Just behind him were two mounted guardsmen wearing boiled leather over chainmail, each with an iron shield with the Stark sigil upon them, and bearing longswords sheathed at their left hips. One wore a helmet while the other (on the man's right) had no helm, leaving his long dark hair loose. Frieda noticed a scar near one of the man's eyes. Behind these three came two younger men, also on horseback, one who was more boy than man, with auburn hair and blue eyes. The older boy had dark brown hair and grey eyes, much like the older man in front of him, and like the older man he had a beard. Then an open topped carriage was pulled in by a pair of horses. On the carriage were two young women. One had long auburn hair while the other had long dark brown hair. Both of them were looking at their surroundings as the carriage was pulled in. More guardsmen entered the courtyard, along with many servants as well. The carriage came to a halt just as the five riders stopped. The older man dismounted his horse just as the royal steward approached.

"Lord Stark," the steward called out. "Grand Maester Pycelle has called for a meeting of the Small Council and requests your immediate presence." Lord Stark looked back to the man with the scar on his face.

"Jory, get the girls and Bran settled into their chambers," he said. The scarred man, Jory, nodded his head, urging his horse towards the young women, followed closely by the auburn haired lad. "Jon, take charge of the wolves. Once they are settled assist Jory with setting the guard up." The older lad, who had dismounted his horse as Lord Stark spoke to him, bowed his head.

"Very well father," he said as he stepped away from his horse. Stark turned to look at the steward.

"If you would like to change into something more appropriate?" he suggested. Stark removed his gloves and stared at the steward, who after an uncomfortable moment bowed his head and led the way to the Small Council chamber. Suppressing a smirk, Frieda followed the other servants as they approached the Northmen party.

"Pardon us milords and ladies," the senior servant began. "We have been tasked with assisting you in settling down into the Tower of the Hand." Jory looked at the man as he spoke. He seems to be assessing us, Frieda thought.

"My thanks my good man," Jory said with a slight smile.

"If you would like any assistance feel free to ask us, Lord…"

"I am Jory Cassel, Captain of Lord Stark's guard," Jory cut across. "I'm neither a knight or a lord." The senior servant looked surprised at him. Frieda giggled slightly, but stopped herself quickly. Unfortunately the senior servant noticed.

"Enough Frieda, or I'll have you whipped," he snapped. Frieda looked down at the ground, trying to look ashamed while quietly seething at the threat. You'll do no such thing if you know what's good for you, she thought. "This is what they give me? Incompetent girls who giggle at the highborn?" As the senior servant raved at her the auburn haired woman wandered over to them, her face expressionless. As she walked a Direwolf padded next to her, earning a few surprised gasps from the assembled servants. Frieda stared wide eyed at the beast, who glared at the senior servant, bearing its teeth at him. The man looked nervously at the beast.

"Have no fear," the woman said, shooting him a glare of her own. "Lady here will not attack unless I order her to do so. Or if you foolishly decide to threaten me." The woman stroked her hand through the wolf's fur, which seemed to calm her down. "But if I hear such unnecessary threats being made again, you will be the first in King's Landing to bear witness to a Direwolf's fury. Have I made myself clear?" The man stared at the woman, his mouth agape. When he finally regained the use of his tongue he spoke.

"Who are you to threaten me madam?" he spoke angrily. As he did Jory and Jon placed their hands on their swords, ready to draw them at a moment's notice.

"You are speaking to Lady Sansa Stark, the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell," Jory spoke, his voice stern. "You will address her as milady." The man looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now. After a tense moment he looked back at Lady Sansa.

"Forgive me, milady, I had no…" he began, but was cut off when the Stark girl raised her hand to silence him. She looked at Frieda for a long moment before approaching her.

"Are you familiar with the layout of the Tower of the Hand?" she asked her. Frieda did her best to give the impression of a nervous servant girl.

"Of course, milady," Frieda began. "I was one of the servants assigned to clear out what Lady Arryn left behind when she vacated the Tower many weeks ago." The lie came easy, as Frieda has been in the Tower of the Hand many times over the last three years, delivering messages to old Lord Arryn for Silas. Sansa smiled at her.

"Then would you be so kind as to escort us to our new home?" she asked in a much kinder voice than she used before. Frieda bowed her head and gave her a small smile before leading the way to where the Starks would be staying.

It took them two hours to get everything sorted out. There was a lot of equipment to be moved, furniture to shift about and weapon stands to position in the armoury. Lord Stark had brought an unusually large guard presence with him, about eighty men. I wonder if that is Silas's suggestion, she thought. It would make sense for Lord Stark to bring so many men if he received my message. As Frieda helped the other servants with their tasks she watched the newcomers get themselves settled in. Jon Snow was followed by a white furred Direwolf where ever he went. It took him several minutes to get the other wolves settled in, setting up pens within all of their rooms which, Frieda noticed, the beasts would be sharing with their owners. Lady Sansa was extremely polite to all of the servants, except for the senior who no one seemed to like, and offered a sweet smile to anyone who she spoke to. Her younger sister, Lady Arya, was a very kind girl herself, but had a mischievous look about her. Her smile held a lot of mischief, and she conducted herself with something of a playful manner. The young boy, Brandon, was being very helpful to the servants, which seemed to make up for his numerous questions about the Red Keep and King's Landing in general. When everything was set up most of the servants left to go about their other duties. As they were leaving Lord Stark himself entered the hall as his own people were getting ready for their mid-afternoon meal.

"It's a bloody mummer's farce Silas," he said quietly to Silas, who was walking with him. The young Baratheon noticed Frieda as he entered and gave her a quick smile.

"I know Eddard, but my father is adamant about this tourney," Silas said as they approached the nearest table.

"Is everything okay father?" Arya asked. Lord Stark looked at his youngest daughter and gave her a small smile.

"Our good King has decided to honour my appointment as Hand by throwing a hellishly expensive tourney," he answered. All of his children looked up at him. Bran and Arya held looks of wonder on their faces while Jon and Sansa looked concerned. Frieda was surprised with Sansa as most highborn girls that Frieda knows would be quite excited with the prospect of a tourney.

"How expensive will it be?" Sansa asked. Instead of answering Lord Stark handed over a scroll of parchment to her. Sansa took it and read the contents, her eyes widening as she read the contents. "This is only the prize fund, isn't it?" she asked looking up at her father. Lord Stark nodded.

"By the time you consider all of the costs for labour, food and the extra guardsmen, we are looking at just under a million dragons," he said. Sansa and her siblings stared at their father, Sansa's jaw dropping at the number. Frieda was not as surprised as they were, seeing as King Robert was known for his somewhat expensive spending habits, but this still shocked her. We surely don't have much left in the treasury at all, she thought as her eyes travelled to Silas. He stepped forwards to look at Sansa.

"I don't suppose now is the time to tell you that we do not have a treasury to pay for this?" he half asked, answering Frieda's thoughts. If everyone assembled did not think they could be shocked further then the looks they all had said otherwise.

"Seven hells," Arya muttered. "How does the King think to pay for this? No offence meant Silas, but your father could do with not being such a fool with his spending." Her words were met with a gentle slap on her arm by Sansa.

"Arya!" she said in an almost scandalised tone. Frieda grinned at the sisters exchange. Just then the senior servant tapped her shoulder. When Frieda looked at him he signalled her to follow him. Frieda followed the man, although she was suspicious of his motives. They walked down the hallway for a short while before he turned around and started waving his finger in her face.

"Now you listen to me Frieda," he began, "I don't care why you have been sent to work with Lord Stark and his family, but I tell you now if you don't start being more respectful to your betters then I'll have you whipped, beaten and scolded. Do you understand me?" Frieda stood stock still, her expression portraying hurt to him. While the man seemed satisfied with her apparent submissiveness, Frieda slowly drew her dagger from her left arm, where it was sheathed. After a moment her expression changed from hurt, to stern, to angry. The older man seemed confused, and in the next instant she had thrown him against the wall and pinned him in place, holding her dagger against his throat. "What are y…" Frieda pressed her blade further against his throat, not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to draw blood.

"Now you listen to me you spineless shit," Frieda growled in a low voice. "All you need to know is that someone of a much higher standing than you has had me placed here for the Starks benefit. And I really hate curs such as yourself, so why don't you fuck off out of here, and we'll pretend you never threatened me." At that she let the man go and stepped back. He gently rubbed his hand where Frieda's blade nicked his skin, then he glared at her.

"You'll pay for that bitch," he spat. "I have powerful friends in court."

"Am I one of those friends?" a familiar voice called out. Frieda looked over her shoulder to see Silas stood, his hand resting on the grip of his own dagger at his right hip. He glared at the senior servant, who had paled at seeing him.

"My prince, I…" he stuttered.

"Frieda here is under my employ," Silas spat. "You shall not threaten her again. Now off with you, you jumped up little prick, and never let me see your ugly mug again." The senior servant bowed his head and then took off. When he disappeared down the hall Frieda turned to face him, and gave him a smile.

"Welcome back, my prince," she said in a mocking tone of voice. Silas rolled his eyes.

"Charming as ever Frieda," he replied. "Must you always make friends in such a way?"

"You know me only too well Silas," she answered. After a moment she stepped closer and pulled out the letter that Varys sent to her earlier. "This may interest you," she said as she handed the scroll to him. Silas took it and read it quickly. He nodded his head in understanding.

"Follow his instructions as always, but tell me first before you report anything," he casually replied as he gave the letter back to her. Frieda took it back and then followed him as he walked back into the hall. "Now, Lord Stark will want to see you as well." Frieda raised her eyebrows at this.

"Is this wise Silas?" she asked quietly as they passed the people who were eating their meal. Silas looked over his shoulder and waved his hand to tell her to catch up with him. Frieda did so, and Silas spoke in a quiet voice.

"Eddard Stark needs to know how our investigation is going," he whispered. "He will be holding his own investigation into Jon Arryn's death. Whatever you have learned while I have been absent you can tell us at the same time."

The room that Lord Stark has taken as his solar was near the top of the Tower of the Hand. It was fairly big, with a massive oak desk in the middle of the room, and numerous bookshelves along the walls. Lord Stark himself was of an age with Silas's father, with a weather-worn face with deep grey eyes and longish dark brown hair. He was wearing a grey tunic made from a thin material to help him stay cool, but he seemed uncomfortable in the southern heat. His face conveyed a sense of kindness while at the same time being stern. Frieda stood in front of him with her arms folded in front of her.

"So Silas tells me that I can trust you?" Stark said as he sat back in his own chair, holding his hand out to offer Frieda and Silas to sit as well. Frieda sits down on the chair to the right while Silas sits to the left.

"I'm the sort of person who gets things done, my lord," she answered. "I've been looking into Littlefinger for a long time, trying to bring him down. He knows that someone is onto him, as I have managed to scupper some of his plans as I investigate him. He is cautious without fault, but not totally careful. Over the last eight weeks I have removed several of his hired thugs, one being a Braavosi who he used to intimidate and murder folk, and I have learned from a minor lordling he is working with that he has hired a warehouse via some of his agents. The agents are people who I know work for him. Trying to get more information is proving difficult at the moment, but I'll get there in the end." Stark leaned back into his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He looked at Frieda for a long time before he leant forward, clasping his hands and placing them on the desk in front of him.

"My wife grew up with Lord Baelish back in Riverrun many years ago," he said. "She has always spoken of him with affection. Of course from what I know of him he seems quite sly, and untrustworthy." Frieda gave Stark a small smile.

"Not trusting him would be a wise move my lord," she said. "He is beyond untrustworthy. He has no honour, which I know will not sit well with you. In fact you will have a hard time trusting anyone on the Small Council." Stark raised a brow at this statement. He stood up and wandered over to the window. As he stood there Silas stood up as well. He remained where he was, but looked over to Stark. He cleared his throat before he began to speak.

"Frieda has worked for Varys for many years Eddard," he said. "She knows the Small Council members better than I do. Of all of them, only my Uncle Stannis and Ser Barristan can be trusted." Stark turned at Silas's words, a look of shock on his face.

"What of the others?" he asked. Silas looked down at Frieda, who stood from her seat before she began to explain the Small Council members to him.

"Lord Stannis and Ser Barristan are honourable men, both holding to a strong code of justice and honour. The rest however…" she paused for a brief moment before she continued. "Lord Renly, while a decent man, is quite silly. He also spends far too much time with Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Mace's youngest son. They are known to be lovers, and it is known in small circles that the Tyrells have been plotting to have their line joined with the royal line for some time. I do firmly believe that Lord Renly is being manipulated by Loras Tyrell."

"Frieda's not wrong there Eddard," Silas put in. "I have never trusted Mace Tyrell, and my Uncle Renly is an impressionable fool. Plus he never takes his responsibilities seriously." Stark looks quite taken aback by this.

"I've never known Renly to be as you have described him," he said. Frieda shrugged her shoulders.

"I have only known him since he became Master of Laws," she said. "Anyway, that's him. Of the rest, well Varys is alright, but I would never trust him to tell me the full facts. He withholds information until it suits him to unveil it to people. I know he speaks truly when he says he serves the realm, but I believe that he would rather see the Targaryens back on the Iron Throne. He holds no love for the current royal family due to what happened to Elia Martel and her children, and he is good at hiding his true feelings and motives. We already know of Littlefinger, which is not as much as I'd like to know. Pycelle however…" Frieda shuddered at mentioning that lecherous old man. "He is nothing more than a slimy Lannister man, paid for by the Old Lion. He pretends to be a dithering frail old man, but in truth he is only the last of those. He is quite sharp for his age, and by no means frail. He also breaks the Maesters oath of celibacy constantly. I wouldn't be surprised if he has had more whores than the King." Silas smirked at that. "Pycelle has been sending information to Lord Lannister since before the fall of the Targaryens. And it was he who is responsible for the Red Cloak scum being able to sack King's Landing." Stark looked at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Before Frieda could answer Silas spoke up.

"Pycelle counselled Mad Aerys to open the city gates so that my grandfather could sack the city, and he knew full well that he would," he answered. "Thanks to him my grandfather was able to sack this city in my father's name, as you already know. It is because of Pycelle that what happened had happened. Every innocent who was murdered, every innocent who was raped… every innocent who suffered, only suffered so because of that old grey sacked cunt." Stark seemed quite surprised at the malice in Silas's voice. Frieda sat back down onto her chair.

"Of course if it wasn't for him then I wouldn't be here," she said quietly. Stark looked at her, confusion written on his face. "Did you execute any Lannister men during the sack?" she asked him.

"I did indeed," Stark answered. "I executed a few men in Lannister colours that day before I entered the Red Keep."

"Then I only hope you beheaded the man who sired me, my lord," she said. "I am rape spawn. My mother, a baker's daughter, was raped by a man in Lord Lannister's army. I have no love for Silas's mother's family. I can make an exception for Lord Tyrion and the Queen herself, but no other who bears the name Lannister." With that explanation Stark seemed to understand. He walked back to his seat and sat down.

"I see," he said after a few uncomfortable moments of silence. He placed both hands on his desk before looking up to look Frieda in her eyes. "Can I rely on you to keep your eyes and ears open and inform me on anything that you may learn in regards to Lord Arryn's death?" Frieda gave him a small smile.

"You can, my lord," she replied. Stark nodded his head before looking up to Silas.

"I have never liked this bloody game of thrones, as you well know Silas," he said calmly. Silas chuckled at him.

"Nor do I Eddard, but play it we must if we are to get to the truth of the matter," Silas said. Stark sighed.

"Then I shall welcome your help Frieda," he said, his voice more formal than before. "I shall employ you as a servant within my household, but you will inform me of anything that you learn should it help me with my own investigations into Lord Arryn's death." Frieda bowed her head to him.

"Very well, my lord," she said. "I shall also help by dealing with any spies that others should send to observe you. If I may take my leave?" Stark nodded his head, and Frieda stood up and left the room.

She knew that she would need to earn Stark's trust. The new Hand came across as a man with little trust for folk this side of the Neck. She did not blame him. Frieda has a hard time trusting folk herself. She calmly left the Tower of the Hand and made her way back to her rooms in the servants quarters. Once there she got changed and headed out. She had to get answers, and she knew where to start tonight. Frieda made her way through the streets of King's Landing, heading towards the warehouses. If she was to get any answers tonight, that would be a good place to start.

Cassana Stark

Cassana slashed the practice sword at Robb, slicing the air where his head had been mere moments ago. Cursing herself, she corrected her stance, bringing the sword up to parry Robb's own blow. The wooden blades hit each other, and Cassana took advantage. She pushed her right shoulder into Robb and knocked him off balance. She then followed up with a quick thrust at his belly which he avoided quickly. He spun around and slashed at her thigh, striking her with the flat of the blade. Cassana grunted at the pain, and a memory came back to her then.

Silas hacked and slashed at the squires in the tiltyard of the Red Keep. He was fighting boys of ten and eleven, and he was merely eight himself. Despite this he beat the boys back very easily.

"Can anyone beat you Prince Silas?" the master-at-arms shouted. Just then one of the squires stood behind Silas while another pushed him back. Silas was then tripped up by the boy behind him. Cassana was shocked by this behaviour. The boys then laid into him. The master-at-arms tried to break them up but the squires just ignored him, and when he waded in they hit him repeatedly, bringing him low. After a moment Cassana stomped over.

"LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!" the little six year old screeched at them, but two of the boys just laughed at her. Cassana marched up to the shorter of the two and then she punched him in the gut. The other then stepped up to help his friend, and Cassana kicked him in the groin. She then picked up the sword that he dropped and began to whack at the other squires. She hit them as hard as she could, as hard as any six year old could. After a moment Silas was back on his feet and whacking away at the boys. After ten minutes of hitting them the squires were all lying on the ground, groaning in pain. Cassana felt good with herself for having put these useless fools down. She looked at her bruised brother, who simply laughed.

"If I am Bittersteel, then you must be Nymeria," he proclaimed loudly. Cassana giggled.

"Who is Nymeria?" she asked her older brother, who then told her about the Rhonyar warrior queen.

Cassana smirked at Robb as she remembered the first time she got into a fight back at the Red Keep. Her smirk put Robb off for only a moment, and she took advantage of it. She swiped at Robb's head while pulling herself back from him. Robb leaned away from her attack, but was unprepared for her follow up attack. Cassana swung her sword upward and struck Robb between his legs, the flat of the wooden blade hitting him in his groin. Robb doubled over, dropping his sword, then falling to the ground himself. Cassana stood triumphantly over him.

"I win," she declared as Robb glared up at her. She gave him a wide smile before bending down to offer her hand to help him up. He took her hand, but rather than be helped up Robb pulled Cassana down, making her shriek out in surprise.

"Who wins?" Robb asked as he rolled her onto her front. Cassana yelps with Robb suddenly on top of her, chuckling as he grabbed her wrists in his hands and held her hands above her head.

"I am at your mercy, oh good lord," she responded playfully. Robb leaned down, his body pressing her further into the ground, or so it seemed. She felt his breath against her cheek.

"Are you now?" he teased, gently brushing his lips against her cheek. Before long Cassana felt Robb lift himself off of her, only to feel his hands on her hips. "Maybe I should show you the limits of my mercy?" he suggested, his tone playful. Cassana giggled as she felt her trousers being pulled down. Before long Robb was on top of her back once again, and shortly after Cassana gasped out as he entered her. Robb thrusted into her relentlessly, making her moan and mumble incoherently. The sounds of their lovemaking were loud to them, but as they were deep within the godswood no one would hear them.

They lay in the dirt for some time, Robb thrusting again and again, sending waves of pleasure through Cassana's body. Cassana does not know how he does it, but she enjoys Robb being with her and taking her every time. They both enjoy one another very much. Cassana knows that she cannot keep up with her husband for long; she feels herself coming to her peak. After a few moments she feels her walls tightening around Robb's length, and soon after she comes down hard around him. At the same time Robb grunts loudly as he spills his seed into her. He all but collapses on top of her, breathing heavily. Cassana wriggles beneath him, making him laugh.

"Eager to escape Cass?" he said coyly. Cassana gave him a small laugh as she looked over her shoulder at him. Robb leant down to give her a quick kiss on her lips, slowly removing himself from her. Cassana grumbled when he left her warmth.

"I hate it when you pull out of me," she said as Robb rolled off of her and began to pull his trousers up. He looked at her and smiled.

"So do I, believe me," he responded. They both stood up and pulled their clothes back into place before going back to the main keep. Once they were there Cassana left to go back to their bed chambers, where she got changed into a blue and grey dress. Once she was changed she left her room and went to the hall where she would have her dinner with her husband and his mother.

As Cassana entered the great hall she wandered over to the high table where she saw Robb sat with his mother sat to his left. Little Rickon was sat to his far right, next to the chair where Cassana would sit. She walked up to her seat, and Robb stood up and pulled her chair back for her. Cassana sat down, thanking Robb, and then the servants came up to the high table to deliver their food. Once their plates were put before them Cassana and her family began to eat. Cassana had some vegetables and venison with baked bread which she scoffed greedily, in a rather unladylike manner.

"You and Arya would definitely get on well," Catlyn had said to her once. As she ate her dinner she noticed Rickon had gotten through half of his plate already.

"People would think that Robb was making you starve with how much you eat so quickly," Cassana said to him. Rickon looked over to her and smiled.

"I'm just hungry Cass," he said. From her left Cassana heard her husband laughing.

"You're always hungry Rickon," he said. "It's just as well that you are always running around, otherwise you would get fat very quickly." Cassana laughed with Robb while Rickon just gave him a brief glance.

"What, fat like you?" he quipped, making Cassana snort with laughter. Robb nearly choked on his mouthful of food.

"Rickon!" Catlyn said in a surprised tone whilst trying hard not to laugh. While they were enjoying Rickon's jape Cassana watched as the doors to the great hall opened up. Ser Rodrik entered the room, looking harassed. Robb saw him and waved him over. Upon looking at his face Robb rose to his feet.

"What is it Ser Rodrik?" he asked. Cassana looked at the old man and saw the look of shock in his eyes.

"We have just had a rider come through the gates, my lord," he began. "The man was horribly injured, close to death. He said that he had a message for your eyes only, saying it was from Ramsey Snow." Cassana's eyes went wide. Lord Bolton's bastard son had sent a message to Robb? But why, she thought as she turned to look at her husband. Robb looked uncomfortable as he looked back at her. He stepped away from the high table and walked over to Ser Rodrik.

"Mother, Cass, finish your dinners, and then get Rickon to sleep," he said. "Don't wait up for me." As he spoke Rickon made to stand up.

"Whatever it is Robb, I can help," he said. Cassana put her hand on his shoulder.

"No need little one," Robb said to him. "This is serious stuff. You don't need to see or hear this." Rickon looked at his elder brother grumpily. He tried to move but Cassana squeezed his shoulder.

"There will come a time when Robb needs your help," she said to him. "When he does he'll call for you, okay?" Rickon looked at her and stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"Cassana's right Rickon," Catlyn spoke this time. "You'll have all the time in the world when you're older to give Robb help. For now though, help him by staying here and eating you dinner." That seemed to help him make his mind up as the next moment Rickon sat back down on his chair. Cassana looked to Catlyn and mouthed a quick thank you to her.

"Thank you mother, and thank you Cass," Robb said sincerely to them. "Don't worry Rickon, you'll get to help next time." After he said that Robb left the great hall.

Cassana, Catlyn and Rickon went back to eating their food, but the hall was full of tension now. Cassana ate her food quietly as she wondered what Ramsey Snow's message could possibly be. After a short while Cassana and Catlyn left the hall, taking Rickon back to his chambers. Once they were there Catlyn told Cassana that she would take care of Rickon, and thanked her for helping to keep him preoccupied. Cassana bid both her good-brother and her good-mother good night before going back to her and Robb's bed chamber. She wandered along the corridor quietly, minding her own business when she saw Theon walking towards her.

"Lady Cassana," he called out.

"Yes Theon, what is it? And drop the 'lady' nonsense," she said. Over the last few weeks she has grown used to Theon, along with his japes and the talking of his 'conquests'. He tried flirting with her to begin with, until she put him in his place by knocking him to the ground during a sparring session with her and Robb. Since then he had maintained a polite manner when in her presence.

"Robb wants to see you," he said, his face unusually serious. "He says it's rather urgent." Cassana followed Theon as he led her to where Robb was. He took her to the stables where she saw Robb stood with Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin, along with several other guardsmen and a sack lying by Robb's feet. Cassana eyed the sack with suspicion. It was just a simple sack with the bottom half of it dark. As she stepped closer Robb stepped over to her.

"You might not want to see what's inside the sack Cass," he said quietly. Cassana looked up at him and into his face. His face was sombre, and all serious looking but with no frustration, which was not like him at all. She has never seen Robb like this, not even during the tourney held in honour of her fourteenth nameday when he was competing in the melee did Robb look so serious. That time a couple of weeks ago when Robb heard the petitioner Gerrik ask for aid after a nearby village had been sacked, when he had made his decision then he looked serious and frustrated, but not as serious as he did now. Cassana realised that it must be really serious if Robb had that look about him. And she did not like it.

"What is it?" she asked him. Robb looked back to the others. Maester Luwin stepped forward.

"The rider had suffered some horrific injuries my lady," he began in that sage-like voice of his. "He had been tortured beyond all sense, and his right arm had been flayed to his elbow." Cassana felt sickened by this.

"Will he make it?" she asked. Robb shook his head in answer.

"The rider is already dead Cass," he said. "He died from the wounds he suffered, along with the loss of blood and an infection. But before he died he said that Ramsey Snow was responsible for the destruction of a handful of villages across the North. The bastard has claimed responsibility for the rape and murder of many women, and has declared himself as the Lord of the Dreadfort." Cassana looked at her husband, confused by this.

"That's not possible," she said. "Lord Roose Bolton is the Lord of the Dreadfort, not him. How can he claim to be the lord of anything?" As she said this her eyes fell on the sack once again. A horrible sensation within her gut began to take hold. A realisation dawned at what could be in the sack, and it sickened her just to think about it. "No," she said quietly as she stepped closer to the sack.

"My lady, I'd advise not to look into the sack," Ser Rodrik said. Cassana looked up to the older man, her face as stern as she could possibly make it.

"I have witnessed men be beheaded in the past Ser," she said calmly. "I've seen heads be displayed by Ser Ilyn in the past." Ser Rodrik seemed surprised at this admission. Cassana has seen justice be carried out a couple of times in the past, once on a murderer and once on a traitorous lord who plotted against her family. Of course her father did not know of this, and neither did her mother. Cassana certainly was not your typical princess growing up in the Red Keep. She knelt down and opened the sack to see what its contents were.

Inside the sack was a head, as she expected. But the head was that of Roose Bolton, the now former Lord of the Dreadfort. The skin on his head was horribly pale, his eyes unseeing and lifeless. There was dried blood splashed around the lower part of his jaw and some where it had seeped from his mouth. He had clearly been dead for some time, perhaps a few weeks now. Cassana stood up from the ground and looked at Robb, who was holding a letter in his hand. He handed the letter to her and she took it and began to read it.

To Robb Stark of Winterfell,

As you will probably have gathered this letter is being delivered with my father's head. He has taught me much, but he has now outlived his usefulness to me. Not taking me to your wedding to the lovely Princess Cassana Baratheon was a very silly thing to do, so now I have decided to take action. If you truly care for the lives of the common folk of the North then you shall deliver to me your wife so that she and I can get intimately acquainted with each other. If you do not then I shall continue to attack the villages of the North and kill the people. Also I require that you stand down as Lord of Winterfell as you Starks do not deserve to rule the North.

Yours sincerely,

Ramsey Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort and true Lord of Winterfell

Cassana was sickened by the bastard's letter. She looked at Robb and saw the look in his eyes. Now she understood that it was not just a sombre and serious expression that Robb had, but an angry one as well. She gave the letter back to him and turned to look at the other assembled men.

"Do we know anything else about this bastard? Where he is, what he is actually doing, who he's with?" Cassana asked them, her voice raising. Robb put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, calm down," he said soothingly. "He can't get to you in here. It would be suicidal of him to attack us here. Now don't worry yourself over him." Cassana looked over to him, her eyes wide.

"Don't worry myself?" she asked incredulously. "The bastard's threatening us, demanding that you give me to him. How can I be calm and not worry when he quite clearly wants to rape me?"

"My lady," Luwin began, "as I have explained to Robb, Ramsey Snow is trying to get you angry so that you will come after him. When you do that then you will be fighting him on his terms, on ground where he will be familiar with what is around him. You must calm down and think clearly." With that advice Cassana began to stop and think about the situation. They were right she had to admit. Rushing in sword drawn won't do us any good at all, she thought. Even though I won't be doing any fighting here Luwin's words are still relevant to me. Cassana sighed and leaned back into Robb, feeling his chest against her back.

"So what can we do?" she asked. "We can't ignore his letter. What if he does attack the small folk? We cannot allow him to walk away unpunished with everything that he has done, and we can't let him bring any more harm to others." Robb ran his hands up and down her arms.

"We will increase patrols across the North," Robb said. "It is quite clear that Ramsey Snow is out to cause trouble for all of us. So we shall deal with him properly. Maester Luwin, I want you to send word to all of the North. From Greywater Watch to the Last Hearth, from Karhold to Bear Island, I want all the lords of the North to increase their patrols and to keep an eye out for Bolton's bastard. Inform them of Lord Bolton's fate and tell them that they are to apprehend Ramsey Snow and deliver him to me as soon as they get him. Ser Rodrik, increase the training of the guards of Winterfell. I want everyone who can wield a sword trained properly and made ready to fight at a moment's notice." With their orders given Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin bowed to Robb and then left to do as they have been ordered. Robb then turned Cassana around to face him. She looked up to him and stood there for a moment before stepping closer to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"What do you want me to do?" Theon asked.

"Take that sack and have someone deal with Lord Bolton's head appropriately," he said to his friend. After a minute Cassana felt Robb's arms wrap around her shoulders. They stood like that for a few minutes before Robb broke their embrace. As they stepped apart from each other Cassana noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. She did not realise just how angry she was.

"Gods," she muttered. "What a mess." Robb leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.

"I know," he said quietly. "We'll get this sorted out soon. Don't get worked up over it. I'll deal with the little shit as soon as I can. For now, let's go and get some sleep. We'll have a long few days ahead of us." Cassana sighed as she walked beside Robb, her arm tucked through his. They walked back into the main keep and headed back towards their chambers. As they walked they came across Catlyn who was herself going to her bed.

"Robb, Cassana, are you okay?" she asked. Robb sighed.

"We'll be fine once we deal with Ramsey Snow," he said. He quickly told his mother what they had just learned not that long ago. Catlyn looked to be at a loss for words, shocked at the notion that a lord of the North had been murdered by his own son.

"What will you do Robb?" Catlyn asked as he walked past with Cassana beside him. His next words while harsh brought a sense of comfort to Cassana.

"If we don't find him soon then I'll scour the North and hunt him down," he said, his voice taking a dark tone. "No one threatens my family and gets to walk as if they have done nothing wrong."

Well, looks like Bolton won't be getting too far ahead of himself now.

Sorry, I couldn't resist. So Roose Bolton is dead, and Ramsey Snow is running around now. The North has now got some unpleasant problems that it could really do without now. Ramsey Snow running around and the Dreadfort now without its Lord. Hmm...

On the plus side Ned now has someone to aid him from the shadows. Let's see where this goes from here.