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Every day of the march the king called me to speak with him. He'd tell me more and more about himself, and with each new fact the war raged further within me. This man is supposed to be the enemy, the person I hated more than anything in the world. But by telling me his past I could imagine his present. By showing me his present I could see our future.
I was betraying my people, and I was letting myself do it.
How can I call myself a Skagosi when I'm willingly fraternizing with the enemy? My father would disown me for this.
On the fourth day I'd had enough and hid from his messengers. I reasoned soon we would stop marching, and after this battle we would never have to see each other again. But as fate would have it we ran into each other after making camp.
"You've been avoiding me." I freeze at the voice, almost letting go of the wood I have been burrowing into the ground for a tent. When I turn around his face is even, not giving anything away. When he realizes that I plan to stay silent and not say anything, he continues. "Why have you been avoiding me?"
A snort of irritation pulls my attention away from Rob. Naman is glaring at him as if he wished to slit his throat, not even bothering to hide it. He walks up to me, and Robb and Naman hold some sort of staring contest which puts Rob's men on guard. Finally Naman looks away, but not before touching my shoulder.
"Remember who you are and who you came from," Naman says with a snarl in our native tongue. "This man killed our people, and keeps our independence from us. He is the enemy, never forget that."
I'm aghast when I realize wanting to defend Rob is my first reaction. I want to tell Naman that it was not Rob that slew our men, but one of his ancestors. It shows how far I've gone, wanting to defend a mainlander. I strengthen my resolve, my face hardening as it does. It may not have been Rob who killed our men, but it is him that holds our chains.
"Is there anything you want, my lord?"
Rob glares at Naman's back as he leaves, gentling his face as he brings it to mine.
"Your company."
"My company is not mine to give, it is my betroth's."
He flinches, and I can tell by the look on his face that he'd forgotten that little detail. "Your betroth?" he says uncertainly.
"Yes. My betroth." I steadily stare at my horse saddle, fidgeting with it and playing with the rungs on the sides.
"Can I… meet this man?"
I go blank in panic, before deciding to go out on a limb. I shrug, walking over to the closest warrior, Bekkar. I stare up at him and he scowls in dislike. He hates any mainlander that sets foot in front of him, and I brought this one right up to him. I take a deep breath in and wrap an arm around his waist, switching to my native tongue.
"Bekkar, he thinks we're getting married. Go along with it." Changing back to the Common Tongue I say, "Lord Stark. This is my betroth, Warrior Bekkar."
Bekkar's mouth is still hanging open after the announcement of our sudden betrothal. We don't even really do those in Skagos. We marry who we want for the most part. Sometimes we have a bit of prodding from our parents if we cannot find someone in a decent amount of time, and every now and then we're forced into a marriage for the better of our family, but usually we find our own mates.
His arm tightens around me and he grins in a way I do not like, his eyes too willing and hands dropping further than I'm comfortable with. "This focker is tha Lord a' Winterfell? A King? He's weak," Bekkar snorts.
I smile at Robb, still speaking my native tongue. "Most mainlander's are."
Bekkar burst into raccous laughter when he understands the situation, drawing attention to us from the others. They do a double take when they see the position we're in. I feel my cheeks begin to burn, and turn to Rob.
"Are you happy now?"
Rob looks like a beaten dog, his arms hanging awkwardly as if he's forgotten himself. He grabs a hold of himself and latches his arms behind his back, giving Bekkar a calculative look. "You don't look happy."
"Do you need to be happy to have a marriage?" I retort. Bekkar suddenly decides to take advantage of the moment, smacking a slobbery kiss in my lips. For a moment I'm too shocked to do anything, and allow him to do it. When he pulls away I can hear the men's raucous laughter all around me. Rob has placed his had lightly on his sword glaring at the man next to me. "Besides," I continue as if the kiss never happened. "What does it matter to you? By this time tomorrow I'll be gone and we'll never have to see each other again."
The life seems to be drawn out of him with my words. "Do you really want that?" he ask in a soft, strained voice. He glances at Bekkar hesitantly, before turning to me again. "You could stay here."
I understand the double meaning in his words, the one's left unsaid. I could stay here with him. I've already seen my future with him. It would be happy, and I would have children that I adored. I would never have to struggle again and work would be a thing of the past.
But my people need me more.
Even if I chose him that happiness would not last. For winter is coming, and with it a walking death. If I ever want any long term happiness the Whitewalkers must be stopped.
"I'm staying with my betroth."
It seems to hit home and he nods appearing sickened, before stumbling away.
Maybe one day I could be with him and I can explain why I am so harsh, if he is still not married after all this happens. Maybe one day I can choose him, because I know I'd be happy.
But for now, this is my path.
By noon tomorrow we're on the road. We go north, so that they do not get suspicious, and then doubling around. Rob doesn't see me off, and my last view of him will always be his back to me as he left.
I'm so foolish and stupid. It's madness. Every foot further away leaves me with a sick feeling, and I'm forced to acknowledge that I do have feelings for this strange mainlander.
If the Master of Sight could see me now, I wonder how proud she would be?
