Robb POV

It took everything in him to walk away, to pretend she wasn't even there. Her face had been a blank mask, devoid of any emotion. But it was the eyes that one had to look at, to truly see it. To truly see her. Melancholy and cold rage. That's what he saw. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her in his arms but she was the one who pushed him away. And he can't help but feel guilty, because it wasn't without reason.

There was another deserter. The eighth or tenth one this month. Robb lost count a long time ago, but today father would carry out the lord's justice. And since Bran was nearing ten namedays, he would be witnessing it, as well as him,Jory, Rodrik, Theon and...her. She'd begged father to let her join along with Brandon. Father was hesitant at first, but soon relented. For father could never truly say no to Lyarra. Not with those doe eyes and that 'melancholy bastard' face she always made. That face always got father to relent in anything. But he couldn't blame his lord father, for it was hard to deny a look like that.

He chances a small look at her. She's riding alongside Brandon's pony, deep in conversation, until Bran blurted out "Do you have to leave so soon?" and this gains his full attention. His gaze directly on her in silent rage when she meets it with a horrified look of her own. "Bran! Where did you-"

"I heard you and father talking when I was climbing near his solar," he admits shamefully, "Sorry Lyarra. But, do you have to go? Can't you stay a few more weeks?"

Robb doesn't know if he's ever gripped anything as hard as he's gripping his reins.

She looks down at Bran before giving a long sigh "It isn't for certain Bran. Father has yet to decide if I should go or not. I have yet to leave.", the last part mostly directed at him than Bran. She ruffles his hair and gives him an assuring smile, but they both know that it's nothing but false promises. He desperately wants to steer his horse near hers and give her a word or two. Leave? Why would she ? Was it because of him? Did she want to get away from him? That thought hurt more than he'd like to admit. Because she had a reason.

He hurt her in the worst possible way one could hurt their lover. No, sister. He hurt his sister. One of the woman he's supposed to protect the most in this world and she doesn't even stay alone in a room with him for more than five seconds. That's very telling.

What would father think? What would be do? If he knew what he did to his daughter? Found out about every dirty little detail of the things he's done to her body on numerous occasions. Found out about all the times she took him in her mouth or he her. Found out about how they used to fondle each other until they both cummed, in the presence of the old gods. Found out about how he used to make her scream and moan his name or the nastiest of things that shouldn't come out of a ladies mouth. Or, found out about how he made her cry out in pain.

He looked on at father, as he brought out his sword Ice from its scabbard. He watched as the man he knew as father turned into Lord Stark of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He watched as he swung the sword, taking off the the madman's head in one swift swing. 'I sentence you to die. May the gods have mercy on your soul' echoed through his head.

'Would father swing the sword on me if he knew? If he knew of my sins, my lust, my desires? Would he renounce my claim as heir to Winterfell and send me to the Wall? Would he look upon me with shame and disappointment?'

Somehow, the thought of his father being ashamed and disappointed in him seemed far worse than any suitable punishment he could think of.

'Is it worth it?' he began to think doubtfully. But when he thought of her and her shy smiles, the ones she only gave him, thought of her laughter and how sweet it is to his ears, thought of all the time they've spent with each other for the past six moons, thought of all the times they sparred together in the woods, thought of their inside jokes that only they understood, thought of her body warm and willingly wrapped around his and his wrapped around hers. He knew 'It was worth it'. And if he could go back to the beginning of it all, back to the moment they first touched each other, he'd do it all again. Just to have those sweet stolen moments again.

It made it hurt all the more; because would she do it all again, for him? He remembered those harsh words, her cold eyes, remembered how she rejected his touch. An overwhelming feeling swelled within his chest, a feeling of angst and heartbreak, because he knew. He knew the answer, 'No. No she wouldn't' he thought.

"Hey! Stark." Theon snapped him back into reality and out of his deep train of thought. "You alright? You're brooding is almost as bad as Snow's. I think you could give her a run for her money." He chuckles at his own joke as they ride away from the executioner block. "Hey, are you alright?"

Robb rolls his shoulders back as he sees Lyarra speeding away "I'm fine," he says demurely before taking off in a gallop to catch up to her, and he can hear Theon shouting after him, Robb really wishes he wouldn't.

He's nearly behind her as he shouts "Lyarra!," she whips her head back in surprise before turning back around, then suddenly coming to halt. He's confused as to why until he sees it himself. A dead stag. And several feet away, a direwolf. It was desperately clinging onto life, yet still living and with her litter of pups.