Beneath the Shade

My darling daughter,

Your siblings and I are very well. Myrcella has grown into a beautiful young woman, although I worry for Tommen. He is too kind and weak. There are people who would exploit his benevolence, which is why I have been trying to make him stronger. Your brother Joffrey has grown into a handsome and strong man, capable of ruling all Seven Kingdoms when the time comes.

I have been arguing with your father on your behalf about the betrothal with Robb Stark. You write that he is handsome, but trust me, he will grow into a man as savage as any northerner, or as stoic as his father. Do not do anything you cannot reverse, and do not let him trick you into falling in love with him. This betrothal will be broken soon, my dear, and you will be back with me. Where you belong.

Your father is resistant, but I am slowly wearing him down. He grows tired of our arguments, and of my revenge. I have devoted my life to making his a living hell. Until you return, I will not cease doing so. He has taken you from me. I will do anything and everything to get you back.

The fact that you have not flowered yet has been convenient, since I am sure your father would have married you to Robb Stark the day after he received word. Someday, you will bleed. I pray that day will come when you are with me in King's Landing.

Your loving mother,

Queen Cersei of House Lannister

She closed the letter and slipped it inside her pocket. Her mother still believed that she was miserable, that she was being manipulated or tricked by the Stark's. Though she loved her mother with all her heart, she found her ramblings to be almost frightening. Kenna shook her head, and tried to forget about the letter.

Robb's nameday was to be a grand event, as a way to celebrate his entrance into manhood. The last grand event in Winterfell had been little Rickon's birth. Six and ten didn't seem like a significant nameday to Kenna, but according to Lady Stark celebrating a boy's fifteenth nameday was of utmost importance, as it informed the lords of the land that the heir was capable of leading them, should anything happen to Lord Stark.

Kenna had been entrusted with the vital task of organising where the guests were sitting. It was a task that gave the illusion of importance, when really it was of little to no significance. It seemed to Kenna that Lady Stark simply wanted to give her something to do. "Someday you will be managing Winterfell. Best to begin early," she had said.

The guests were all members of the household of Winterfell. There were no lords or ladies to seat away from each other, so Kenna couldn't fail on that end. The only way she could use her brain was by making an effort to sit the guests with their friends. And even then it was simple, as the guards were friends with the guards, the maids were friends with the maids and those who worked in the stables and outdoors were friends with other people who worked in the stables of outdoors.

It was a way of saying 'you're ready, but you're not ready.'

Theon Greyjoy sauntered over to her with an arrogant grin plastered on his face. Kenna was beginning to think that his face was just shaped that way, that he had no control over it. Perhaps he had some sort of ailment that disfigured his facial features. There was such a thing, as Kenna remembered one of the court ladies having an unsymmetrical face.

"Can I help you?" Kenna said. Having grown board of writing names on a page, she was drawing shapes in the boxes with the names in them as to distinguish the person's profession. "I happen to be very busy."

He snorted, and looked from the seating chart to her with an eyebrow raised. "Drawing inside boxes? What a stressful life you live." Kenna rolled her eyes and went back to making the seating arrangements. She was silently cursing Theon for ruining her fun when he laid a finger on one of the boxes. "Is that supposed to be a sword or a horse?"

She smacked his hand away from the page, causing Theon to chuckle like he had accomplished something. "Don't you have somewhere to go? I don't mean to be rude, but your presence isn't exactly benefiting me."

The smirk was still set on his features as he sat on the chair beside her. "Judging by your reaction to seeing me, princess, you've probably heard about my present for Robb."

Alys said something about it, though she didn't specify what the present was. She had tip-toed around Kenna, though, and made sure to avoid the topic after that. When Kenna asked her about it again, she shifted the topic to dresses and what they were wearing.

"I've heard about it. But nobody will tell me what it is." His smirk became smug. She balled her fists and in high-pitched voice continued pressing him. "Tell me, Theon! You obviously want me to be affected by it, whatever it is. How can I be affected by it if I don't know what to be affected by?"

That had gotten through to him. He leaned in closer to her, his eyes bright with mischief, and settled her curiosities. "I'm bringing him to a brothel." Kenna felt her jaw slack. He appeared to be pleased by this reaction. "I thought that he needed to become a man in all ways. What better way than to have him fuck a woman?"

She couldn't bring herself to chastise Theon for his language. All remarks turned to ash on her tongue. Her stomach was churning and she could hear her heart in her ears. She was being pathetic, and she felt disgusted with herself for showing Theon that she was affected by Robb sleeping with a woman for the first time. But when she opened her mouth to respond and to recover some dignity, all that came out was a melancholic 'oh.'

"I would have offered you up for the job," Theon started again. Kenna snapped herself back to reality and pushed the thought of Robb kissing another woman to the back of her mind. "I mean, if you were a woman."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kenna demanded, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Well, you haven't bled yet." Her eyes became as wide as footballs. How did he know? As though he could hear her thoughts, Theon answered them. "The whole castle knows. You should really be careful as to who you have changing your sheets. Maids are very talkative when they're... you know."

Her face contorted in disgust. There were things – like Theon's bedroom activities – that she didn't need to know. "Enough of that. I don't need to know what you do with the maid. I wonder if they see sharing your bed as a choice or an obligation because you're of a higher station."

"Of course it's their choice," Theon said, and scoffed as though Kenna's statement had been the most bizarre thing ever said. "Who wouldn't desire me? I bet that if you were a proper woman, you would be aching for me."

She smacked him on the arm and shot him a venomous look. For some reason, Theon seemed to enjoy pain and being smacked. "You are disgusting. And I have never and will never 'ache' for you."

"And if we were the last two people in the world?" Theon asked as he leaned closer to her.

Kenna edged closer to him in response, and made it so that their faces were inches apart. "Then I would happily die a virgin." She smirked at his expression before returning to work on the seating arrangements. "Now, be gone with you. This requires complete concentration."

Surprisingly, Theon went to leave without much of a fight. She thought she was free of him, until he turned around and spoke again. "You can die a virgin, princess. But Robb Stark certainly won't."

She glared at him and threw her quill, though the quill only hit his back and caused him to chuckle.

The worst part was that Theon Greyjoy had showed his true colours in public, within hearing of Lady Stark and Maester Luwin. And nobody even heard him.

Robb Stark had the worst timing, Kenna decided, when he approached her just after Theon had informed her of his plans for Robb. She was still glaring at Theon's retreating figure with such ferocity that one would wonder why Theon hadn't burst into flames yet. Kenna wished that he would.

Being the noble gentleman that he was, Robb bent down to pick up her quill and offered it to Kenna while observing at her with a mixture of fear and confusion. "What happened with you and Theon?"

"Never you mind," she replied snappishly as she snatched the quill from Robb's hand. She wrote furiously on the page, though instead of writing she drew symbols. "I hear you're going to a brothel today. You must be excited."

He sat on the chair next to her. Kenna wondered if there was something about her that made people think she wanted company. "It's Theon's idea of a nameday present. He thinks that it's about time I become a 'man.'"

"You don't sound particularly excited," Kenna observed, not even sparing him a glance. Her stomach felt odd, like it did when her mother gave Joffrey more attention and affection than Kenna. Was this...? No. Most certainly not.

Robb shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose I am – wait, is that supposed to be a dog?"

Kenna gave a heavy sigh. "No, they are horses. Can we focus on the topic on hand? The whorehouse. What do you think about it?"

The flustered expression he wore gave her some pleasure, at least. He knew that if he said the wrong thing, Kenna would jump on him like some sort of animal. "I think that it's a house, where there are women who offer themselves in exchange for gold..." He stopped when saw her expression, but then he laughed and held up a hand and suddenly Kenna became the confused one. "Wait. Kenna, are you jealous?"

It was her turn to be flustered, and Robb seemed to take joy in that switch. "What?" she exclaimed with furrowed eyebrows. "No. Of course not. It's not like we're married. We might be betrothed, but we're not married. You can do as you wish. Lie with all the whores in Winter Town if you so please. And the kitchen maids if you find that your urges won't wait." She huffed and shook her head. "Me, jealous? What gave you such an idea?"

Robb knitted his eyebrows together. "Well, you were irritable after talking to Theon, which I'm guessing was about his girt?"

Kenna scoffed as she pushed out her chair and stood. "Theon and I talk about things that don't involve you, Robb. Gods, when will you realise that the world does not revolve around you?"

Shaking her head and mumbling incoherent words, Kenna stormed away from him speedily, as though he carried some sort of disease. His eyes followed her out, wandering to places that they shouldn't have been.

"You will do this for me, won't you, Lysa?" Littlefinger asked as he cupped Lysa Arryn's ageing face in his hands. His eyes bore into her bright Tully blue ones. "You will not cower at the last moment. It is imperative that you do this."

"I know. I won't disappoint you, Petyr. I promise," she swore. Lysa was so in love with him, which made her the perfect pawn. Love was a weakness, and it made a person completely bendable to another's will, as long as they knew how to fully utilise it. Littlefinger was an expert on the matter. "I only wish that you'd tell me why this is so important."

Littlefinger tilted his head to the side, pretending to feel regret over the fact that he couldn't tell her. "You know that I can't, Lysa, It would put you and your son in danger."

"I wouldn't want that," Lysa agreed, though disappointed that he couldn't inform her of his plans. He was doing it to protect her. Because he loved her. "But if I do this, you will come to the Vale and marry me, won't you?"

He smiled at her in strained kindness. Lysa didn't noticed the forced nature of his smile, and how it was almost a grimace. "Of course, my love. We will be wed as soon as possible." He took her hand in his and closed a vial of poison in it. "Tears of Lys. Impossible to detect. They will think he died of a fever or some other ailment."

Lysa nodded. Her stomach twisted with guilt. It was worth it, she reminded herself. She deserved happiness. She had done her duty, and Jon was an old man. He had lived a good life. "I am doing this because I love you, Petyr. Do you love me, as I love you?"

His skills in lying were really surpassed. Littlefinger kissed Lysa on her forehead. "With all my heart."

There had only ever been one woman that Littlefinger loved, and it was not Lysa Arryn.

"Go on in then," Theon said as he patted Robb on the back encouringly. Robb stared, conflicted, at the door where inside the whore Theon bought for him would be. "Are you scared of a pair of tits, Robb Stark?"

Robb huffed, and tried to mask his hesitation by simply looking indignant. "Of course I'm not afraid of a pair of tits. What I am afraid of is my father finding out I went to a brothel. You know how he is."

To Theon it was so simple. He would just walk into the room and lie with the whore, as though it was of no importance. Perhaps it made him less of a man, but Robb had always wanted his first to be with a woman he cared about. Not with a woman who was paid to love him for an hour.

"And yet somehow he has a bastard son," Theon quipped. Robb rolled his eyes, though he couldn't deny that Theon was right. The kraken rested a brotherly hand on his shoulder and shook him. "Lying with a woman isn't wrong, Robb. It's natural. And it's not like you're dishonouring her. If anything, you're doing her favour. Whores need men and virgins to make a living."

"I suppose you're right," Robb admitted, not wanting to tell Theon the real reason as to why he didn't want to lie with a whore. He wouldn't understand, and would be more than happy to tease him for being too 'emotional' about lying with a woman.

Theon's grin became larger. "Great." He patted Robb on the back, effectively pushing him inside. "Now in you go. When you come back out you'll be a real man!"

His chuckling followed Robb inside. The room was dimly lit by candles, and the shutters had been closed to give the room an erotic feel. But Robb didn't feel aroused, he just felt nervous. On the bed, the whore Theon purchased for him was sprawled out in the silk sheets. Her breasts were plump, round and creamy. Robb felt his breeches tighten as he stared at them.

The woman slowly crawled off the bed and stood. Robb could see her whole body now. She was kissed by fire, her hair being a bright shade of red that fell past her breasts in an abundance of curves. Her stomach was small and her hips were large and womanly. He didn't think he had seen such a perfectly shaped woman in his life. Though, he never did know what they were hiding underneath all those layers of clothing.

"My, you're handsome," she commented as Robb ogled her body. This feels wrong, Robb thought, though he doesn't know why. Many boys his age – no, many men – have lain with women. Why should he be different? "Your friend Theon says it's your first. Best make it special then, hm?"

Robb nodded, and dragged his eyes to meet the woman's. He was a Stark of Winterfell and heir to the North, he didn't want this woman to tell the whole of Winter Town that he was a wimp, afraid of his own cock. "What's your name?" he asked, and Robb could tell that she was surprised by the question.

She sauntered towards him, moving her hips seductively like some sort of enchantress. She began to untie his breeches, and smirked when she felt his aching cock. "I'm whoever you want me to be, my lord."

He laughed, having sort of expected that answer. "Honestly, though. What is your name?"

The woman looked up at him as though he was of another race. A different creature. Apparently not many customers bother to ask the whore her name. Robb needed to know it. He didn't want to think of her as anyone else. That would be most ungentlemanly, for both her and the woman he would think of. Gentleman, he thought ruefully, how can I be 'gentlemanly' when I am in a whorehouse?

"Ros," she answered after a few moments of silence. Her eyes flashed with something akin to wonder as she stared at him. "My name is Ros."

She removed his breeches. Before long, Robb was as naked as his nameday. Discovering her name helped Robb to become less uncomfortable, as he had been before. Ros glanced down at his cock, and smiled approvingly at it's size. Robb beamed with pride as the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Ros sunk to her knees and took his cock in her small, soft hands, rubbing it swiftly. He felt himself harden, his cock becoming fully erect. She then took him in her mouth. All of him, as though her throat had no end. Robb groaned. Never had he experienced such pleasure. Such ecstasy.

But one face kept popping up in his head. One face that he kept on having to push back. He would not dishonour the princess in such a way. It didn't matter that he knew Ros' name, apparently, because hers almost rolled off his tongue every time he felt a rush of pleasure.

When Ros was finished with him, she led him over to the bed and pushed him onto it before climbing on top of him. Ros. Her name is Ros. He repeated the sentence in his head over and over again, but it didn't have any affect because her name was still on his tongue. And her face was still in his head. Her stormy blue eyes, her kind smile, her high-pitched giggle... Not matter how many times he reminded himself that this woman was Ros, Kenna's face would always be the face he saw.

Just as Ros was about to lower herself on top of him, Robb jumped up, though he made sure that Ros didn't topple over. "I can't," he said. Robb had never felt like such a wimp before in his life. "When I close my eyes, I see her. Only her."

"I can be whoever you want me to be, my lord," Ros told him, still startled by his sudden change of heart. Robb noted that she didn't seem too surprised. She was probably used to scared, nervous virgins. "That's why I'm here."

Robb shook his head and pulled up his breeches in a rush. "I can't. I couldn't dishonour her like that."

"She would never know," Ros said, but Robb only shook his head, firm and adamant in his decision. Ros folded her arms over her naked chance as she studied him. "You really like this girl, don't you?"

He hadn't thought of her like that before. All he knew was that lately, during the past few months, he had begun to see her as less of a friend who was fun to hang around with, and more of the beautiful woman she had become. The prospect of marrying her was no longer a duty in Robb's eyes, he considered it as more of a luxury than anything else.

"I don't know," Robb replied, somewhat lost in thought. "I suppose so."

"What's her name?" Ros inquired, causing Robb to regard her oddly with a goofy smile on his lips as she shrugged on a robe. "Oh, come on, my lord. Is she a maid? Or is it something even more scandalous? Is she a lady with a scandalous past? Did she share a bed with someone before marriage? Oh, the horror!"

"No, nothing scandalous," Robb answered, laughing at Ros' bizarre speculations. "In fact, it couldn't be less scandalous. Both my father and hers wanted us to fall in love."

Realisation dawned on Ros' delicate, pretty features. "Is it that princess you're betrothed to?" she blurted, and laughed when she saw Robb's shocked expression. "Men talk when their happy. And it's not exactly a closely guarded secret, is it, my lord?"

"How much information are you privy to?" Robb asked, extremely curious. Whores could have an abundance of important information under their belt, and probably would spill everything if given the right price.

Ros smirked in response. "You'd be surprised. I know that Princess Kenna hasn't bled yet, and until she does you can't marry her. How long are you willing to wait, my lord? Before you know it, you'll succumb to madness or, perhaps, join the Night's Watch. Which would be a pity, in my opinion. Since your cock is too wonderfully large and promising to become frozen."

"It won't be that long," Robb said firmly.

She boomed with laughter. "And what do you know about the bodies of women?"

"Enough," he insisted, and handed her a coin once he was fully dressed. "Anyway, she's worth waiting for."

"Sounds like true love," she quipped. "What's the coin for? Your friend's already paid for it."

"For your troubles," Robb told her. "And can you not mention this to Theon? I'd never hear the end of it."

No longer laughing, Ros inspected the coin Robb had given her before answering. "Of course. And don't you know whores always keep their word?" She shot him a wink.

"I remember hearing that somewhere," Robb replied with a small chuckle. In truth, he was sure that not a soul had such a thing before. He reached for the door and twisted the knob, but before he opened it Ros spoke again.

"She must be some woman," Ros said, all cockiness and arrogance having evaporated from her tone.

Robb stopped, but didn't turn around. A small smile grew upon his lips. "You have no idea."

"Remind me, again," Miya started tiredly as she and Kenna examined the fabrics in the shop. Kenna had to drag her along since, as a lady, she constantly needed a chaperone. "Why is it that you need another dress? You have around twenty, my lady."

"For the feast tonight, of course," Kenna replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She craned her neck to look out the small window, and Miya saw the brothel on the other side of the road. And then she knew. "I've been wearing the same dresses over and over again for the past year."

"You know that the dress wouldn't be ready for tonight," Miya pointed out, but she was sure that her mistress was well aware of that fact. "Not even if the fabric was given to the fastest seamstress. But you don't want a dress, do you? You want to see Lord Robb."

Kenna glanced, wide-eyed, back to her handmaiden. How had she deduced that? Miya was more intelligent than she seemed. Kenna would have to keep that in mind for future plotting. "No, Miya. That's stupid." She tilted her head to the side with disbelieving look etched on her features. Kenna broke. "I just want to see if he's smiling and happy."

"Because you hope that he's not?" Sheepishly, Kenna nodded her head, causing Miya to tut and shake her head. "He's coming out of a brothel, my lady. Where he has lain with a woman for the first time. Of course he would be happy! You're torturing yourself."

A woman with red hair walked into the shop then, but Kenna couldn't bring herself to stop looking at the brothel. Where, inside, Robb was having the time of his life. "I know," she said sorrowfully before ripping her eyes away from the horrible establishment. "We should go."

Miya nodded in agreement. Before they reached the door, the woman with red hair spoke from behind her. "You must be the princess. Princess Kenna, isn't it?" She turned around slowly to face the woman. "My, you're just as pretty as he said."

Kenna raised an eyebrow, and noticed that behind the woman the shopkeeper was leering at her with complete and utter contempt. "Thank you," Kenna said unsurely, looking to Miya for help, though for the first time her handmaiden was silent. "If you don't mind me asking, who said this?"

The woman laughed. "That Robb Stark. His friend bought me as a nameday present. But the poor boy couldn't do it, kept on seeing a lady's face."

"Whose?" Kenna asked eagerly.

She laughed again. It was a booming laugh that Kenna didn't think a woman was capable of. "Yours, of course. He said it wouldn't be right. That he couldn't 'dishonour' you like that. A pity, really, I couldn't wait to have his large cock inside of me."

Miya grabbed her upper arm and tried to pull her out of the shop. "Come, princess. We ought to get you back to the castle," she insisted, but Kenna didn't want to leave and ripped her arm from Miya's grasp.

"So, he didn't lie with you?" Kenna checked, hiding a very large smile. She knew that people were probably looking at her, and she was disgracing herself by speaking with a whore. But she had to know "Because of me?"

The woman nodded. "Sounds like he's in love with you, my lady. Said he'd wait forever for you to have your blood. He'd go celibate until you did. Good men are rare. Best to keep this one while you can."

"I will try my best to have my blood," Kenna responded, huffing. A huge smile came upon her face then when she was reminded again that Robb hadn't slept with this beautiful woman because of her. "Thank you... miss?" She wasn't sure what the woman preferred to be called.

"Whore, if you like," the woman said. "Or Ros, since you important folk seem to like names."

Kenna smiled kindly at her. "Thank you, Ros. For telling me about what happened in the brothel."

"He's ashamed of it thought, that he couldn't put it in," Ros informed her. Miya sniggered while Kenna had to stifle hers by covered her mouth with her hand. "So be nice to him. And he made me promise not to mention it to Theon Greyjoy."

"Don't worry, we won't," Kenna assured her. They left then, and hopped into the carriage. Once they were on the road back to Winterfell, Kenna saw Miya looking at her with a knowing smile on her lips. "What?"

"You look very happy," she observed.

Kenna gazed out of the carriage the window, the smile still on her face. "That's because I am."

The bard sang a cheerful, upbeat tune, to which many of the guests danced to. The servants and staff seemed delighted with a break from their duties, and were quite bawdy and merry. Her mother once said that northerners were a barbaric bunch, and their moods ranged from savage to stern. Kenna didn't see any savages, but the northerners were by no means overly stern. If anything, the North was much less strict than the South. Ten fold.

"I'm tired," Bran complained, and leaned his head against Arya's shoulder.

Arya pushed him away as soon as she felt his head on her shoulder. "Stop being a such a baby, Bran. Go to bed if your tired."

"But I don't want to," he said, his eyes closing and his body swaying from fatigue. The older people at the table sniggered at them. "And I'm not a baby. Rickon's the baby."

Young Rickon had been brought to bed an hour earlier, even though he was holding up well. Kenna thought he was the life of the gathering, and Bran looked more tired than Rickon did at that point. "Do you want to go to bed, Bran?" Sansa asked, placing a kind, motherly hand on his shoulder, which he quickly shrugged off.

"No," he insisted, shaking his head in order to wake himself up. "I'm alright, Sansa. I don't want to go to bed."

"Why are you nicer to him?" Arya inquired of Sansa, her features set in a frown. Where Sansa had become a lady through and through, Arya had become more boyish, preferring to ride horses instead of doing needlework. "You're always nicer to Bran and Rickon."

"Because they behave," Sansa shot back as she nibbled delicately on a piece of cake. Unconsciously, Kenna straightened her back and pulled back her shoulders. Just watching Sansa Stark made her want to act like more of a lady, even though she had never done anything unladylike. "Unlike you. I swear, Arya, you're more animal than lady."

Arya's eyes were narrowed in a fierce glare when she lunged behind Bran and towards Sansa. She grabbed a fistful of Sansa's hair and tugged at it, causing the elder Stark girl to cry out in pain. Jon Snow jumped up and grabbed Arya, placing her on the other side of him so that she was further away from Sansa.

"That's enough of that for tonight," he said, smiling affectionately at Arya. The two of them had a strong bond, the strongest bond of all the Stark siblings. Kenna wondered if it was stemmed from the fact that they both looked the most like Starks. Jon spotted something behind Arya and his eyes lit with alarm. "Your lady mother is coming."

As soon as Jon said it, and in the length of a second, the table became quiet and all those sitting at it suddenly seemed well behaved. Lady Stark wasn't fooled for a second. "Why is it that whenever I plan a gathering, my children seem to take this as an opportunity to act the fool?" Sansa, Arya and Bran bowed their heads in shame, not daring to look at their furious mother. Her glare shifted from her children to Jon. Kenna couldn't remember a time when Lady Stark had regarded Jon with anything other than hatred. "Snow, make yourself useful and bring Bran and Arya to bed."

"But I'm not tired!" Arya protested, while Bran slowly drifted off to sleep.

Jon glanced between Arya and her mother, though it only served to make Lady Stark angrier with him. "Hurry on, then, Snow."

Since waiting would only make Lady Stark angry, Jon didn't hesitate to stand and lift a half-asleep Bran into his arms. He offered his hand to Arya, which she took, deciding that it wasn't worth angering her mother. Alys jumped up abruptly, and looked nervously between Jon and Lady Stark before she spoke. "I will go with you," she said to Jon.

Though he merely nodded, Jon was obviously happy that she had offered to go with him. It proved to Lady Stark that he was liked, that she was the only person within the main Stark household who regarded him as a lowly bastard. The victory was a silent one, but a victory nonetheless.

Lady Stark went back to her seat beside Lord Stark then, burning holes through Jon Snow's back as he left with Alys and her children. Kenna hated how Lady Stark treated Jon. She liked to think that if Robb had a bastard when they were married, that she would take it out on him rather than on an innocent child. Though she knew that it was easier said than done.

"Robb became a man today," Theon said loudly, albeit not too loud so that Lord and Lady Stark couldn't hear. "Did you know that, Kenna? It was a quick job, but he did it."

Kenna couldn't help the smile that graced her lips. She patted Robb on the back, shocking both him and Theon. "Well done, Robb. A huge achievement, I'm sure."

Theon lost interest swiftly, and started chatting up a blushing young kitchen maid. They wanted a show, Kenna realised. They wanted her to rage with jealousy, and had she not known the truth she probably would have.

"So does that mean you've gotten over your jealously issues?" Robb asked, leaning close to her ear. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. It made her heart race and stomach leap with excitement.

"There was never any jealousy to 'get over'," Kenna responded, lightly pushing him away. She rose from her seat, eyes not leaving Robb's as his did not leave hers. "You're going to ask me dance now."

Robb grinned with amusement, but stood anyway. "Oh, am I?"

She nodded, closing the gap between them as she laced her hand in his. "Yes, you are. Because this music is so amazing you just can't resist."

"Well, then, Lady Kenna," he began, lowering his voice and mimicking the accent of a southern gentlemen. It was silly, because Kenna had seen plenty of northern lords dancing. "Would you do me the honour of sharing this dance?"

Kenna smiled politely at him as she bobbed an exaggerated curtsy. She could feel Theon's eyes on them, carefully studying the two of them. "I thought you'd never ask," she said, and set off towards the middle of the Great Hall, where all the others were dancing.

Robb hated dancing, but he couldn't say no to her. He spun her around in circles, and Kenna giggled like a mad child as he twirled her into his arms and dipped her. Their heartbeats had quickened after only a few minutes, and beads of sweat shone on their foreheads as their breathing matched their heartbeats.

"Did you have fun with her?" Kenna questioned him as he folded her into his chest, deciding to play with her façade of apparent ignorance. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Of course I did," Robb insisted, like it was obvious. Kenna laughed. "What? What's so funny?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, nothing. Just that you thought I would be jealous. What sort of woman do you think I am?"

"The most amazing woman in the world," he said smoothly. Kenna swooned like one of those princesses in the songs. Secretly, she had always wanted to be like them. Only not so defenceless. "And I know that you're jealous, even if you're too proud to show it."

Kenna scoffed. "I'm not jealous-"

"I like it when you're jealous," Robb teased, the corner of his lips going upwards in a smirk. Kenna "It's thrilling. You get this look in your eye..."

"A look in my eye?" she repeated whilst raising an eyebrow. It was amusing since Kenna knew that he hadn't slept with the whore, though Robb obviously thought that she did and was boosting his pride by thinking she was. "You're making me sound like a vengeful monster who hates every woman you have eye contact with."

"Don't you?"

Kenna roared with laughter. She noticed that her laugh was becoming more like her father's with every passing day. A more feminine version, though. "Gods, Robb. Everything I do does not have you as a hidden motivation."

He pulled her closer to him when the crowd of dancers blocked his parent's view of them. She could feel his stubble on her nose, his breath on her cheek as his eyes locked with hers. Gently, he tucked a lose strand of black hair behind her left ear. "How unfortunate," he said, his hand rested under her chin and pulling her towards him.

Just as their lips were about to meet, Kenna remembered her mother's letters. Do not do anything you cannot reverse, and do not let him trick you into falling in love with him. This betrothal will be broken soon, my dear, and you will be back with me. Where you belong. He wasn't tricking her, but she felt as though she was betraying her mother somehow.

Kenna pulled away, and without giving him a second glance she rushed out of the Hall.

She couldn't betray her mother. She was leagues away and it had been years since they last spoke in person, but the loyalty that bound Kenna to her mother was still strong.

"Is it done?"

Lysa Arryn swallowed the large lump in her throat. She was thankful for the dim lighting, so that Petyr couldn't see the guilt etched on her face of the tears that had streamed from her eyes. She was a murderer. The gods would damn her to one of the Seven Hells for her sins.

"It is done."

Author's Note: This chapter was set just before the events of Game of Thrones, if you were confused. I want to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and favourited. You guys inspire me to write faster! I had written this chapter a few days back, but then my computer crashed and I lost it. But I'm now thinking that it was for the best, since this chapter is so much better. Less Gossip Girl-y and the characters aren't OOC. Next chapter will be up within the next two or three weeks!

'Til next time!