Patrick, I have the same thoughts as you. Sansan is too far in age. Like seriously, a fourteen year old and a thirty something year old is sort of…creepy.

Note, this chapter we fast forward a couple days, to only a day's travel from King's Landing. Near Rosby on the Feast of Crows map.

Anyway, thanks to the people.

Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or Song of Ice and Fire.

ROBB POV

Damn the Frey bastard to hell.

Blind to the world, Robb sighed and tried once again to shake the blindfold from his eyes. He had no idea where he was, if Edwyn was still there, or if he was surrounded by bandits or someone would murder him in an instant. All he knew was that he was still on horseback, swaying with the pace of the hoof beats.

He tried to lift his arms earlier on, but his hands were tied around the saddle, his fingers stiff and aching with lack of movement.

He was forced to sit placidly like some sort of child, tied up until he couldn't move even his fingers.

He was forced to sit, blind to the world around him and too weak with his fevered body.

Edwyn was somewhere ahead of him, leading his placid horse alone from his massive horse that towered over him like Rickon to Greatjon.

This brought his thoughts to Riverrun, and his wife and family and remaining army sat. They would have known of his kidnapping, and were probably sending out search parties to find him.

But he was most sure that they would not find him in time to save him from the headsmen's sword.

So he would have to escape himself.

He still felt like his fingers were wound tightly around Edwyn's neck, and had felt pleasure seeing him choke for air. This man was a Frey, who killed his mother and betrayed him and tried to murder him. But he had been too weak to kill him quickly, and he felt the cold air stinging the open wound over his head, the dried blood crusting on his neck. He glared ahead, where hopefully Edwyn was seated.

He ignored his cramping arms and lost himself in thoughts. He didn't know when it drifted to dreams and sleep, but suddenly he was seeing the world through Grey Wind's eyes.

He was racing through the woods, stronger then before and more powerful. He recognized the small she human who sat astride the horse with the man who had fought with him. The horses were nervous around him, scared of his teeth and claws.

They should be. He was the lord of the wild. No lions could take his right.

He barred his teeth at the smaller cousin sulking in the woods, and he sensed something familiar about him. The scent he carried, one he hadn't scented in moons.

His sister…

He looked toward the she human that was her companion. She was straight backed and alert, searching through the trees, searching for whatever had alerted her to a presence half familiar.

He sniffed the air and felt the wild presence of his sister, his litter mate, stalking closer at the cousin's insistence.

She was like him in some respects. Grey with yellow eyes, Nymeria was small and lean, but a hungry light in her eyes that she shared with the she human that rode beside. A man raised the bow, arrow nocked and aimed to strike.

The she human had intervened, cursing him to the hells and stroking the wolf that was her companion. Nymeria welcomed her quickly, licking her face but not taking her eyes off the man with the bow and arrow still in hand.

The breathing dead she human sat astride a horse, her cold eyes somewhat triumphant.

"Arya…" she hissed in her language of damnation. The girl child jumped and narrowed her eyes at the woman.

"Mother."

"Wake up, we're stopping." Someone startled him from his dreams.

The ache and pain from his wounds reached his mind first, and he bit back curses that would have made the Greatjon proud, but his father would have rolled over in his deathly sleep.

He dismounted, stumbling over pebbles and branches, totally at Edwyn's mercy. Blind and bound, he could not remove the blind or untie the ropes tied behind his back. His shoulders were groaning in agony, and he wished to stretch them.

Edwyn sat him down on the ground, pressing his fingers into his injured shoulder where the hole from the quarrel had dug into his bone. He couldn't stop the whistle of air through his teeth as he gritted and hissed with pain.

Edwyn made no apology, and he was forced to sit.

Cross legged on the ground, he twisted his fingers and tried to reach for the knots behind him. He felt them and loosened them slightly.

"No fires tonight, we're getting close to farm country." Edwyn said, rustling grass telling him he sat nearby.

Robb made no conversation. There was nothing to say to his imprisoner, so there were no words.

Edwyn felt need to fill the silence that Robb was enjoying. "Why did you march south?"

Robb looked in his direction, what he hoped was his direction and said "Because my father was wrongly accused and beheaded. It was for honor and duty that I marched south."

Edwyn made no sound and said "Why? He is your father. You would inherit Winterfell if he died. Which he did."

Robb bristled, his temper sparking slightly. This man presumed that he would spill his secrets to him, his darkest thoughts.

"My father died because he did what was honorable. He died falsely accused of crimes he did not and never would, commit. The throne was the last thing my father wanted. I fought for his honor, and for House Stark and for my family."

Edwyn stood and said "you wanted nothing of the throne? All the power it would have given you?"

Robb shook his head. He would speak no more. This man should know this, he had his own father. But Walder Frey and Eddard Stark were as different as North and South. They would have raised their sons differently, very differently.

For a moment, a mere moment in time, he felt a little pity for the man without a decent father to call his own.

But he was a Frey, as guilty as the rest.

JON POV

A few words on parchment. A few letters used to form words. So few words could leave him locked in the godswood, far from prying eyes.

Robb Stark captured. To be beheaded on arrival in King's Landing.

He had no idea who sent the letter, sent him the news that forced him to find solace in his father's gods.

Kneeling before the heart tree, he could almost imagine himself in Winterfell, and the sounds of training brothers could be half brothers, of the same Stark blood as him. He was a Stark, Robb insisted often. Theon would laugh and say as much as he was a Lannister, but Jon learned not to listen to Theon too often.

His sword lay on his knees, shining in the dim gloom of the godswood. His father's gods had never held his interest before. He knew Robb was drawn to them, and had never understood before. But now, he understood what made his brother and father pray before the trees.

He closed his eyes and remembered the last time he saw his brother. It was snowing lightly, just a summer snow. They had embraced, and Robb said he would visit the Wall with him with Bran to see how he was getting along. He wondered if Robb would believe if he said that he was Lord Commander.

Ghost paced at his feet, and he wondered if Grey Wind was with his brother, or killed before he could rip the throats of Robb's captors. His body lying mangled in some shadowed forest, left for crows and other wolves, lesser cousins to eat his remains.

He deserved better then some common animal.

The thoughts and images this thought conjured made him swallow bile and he turned o the ancient face carved into the bone white bark, tears of blood, so brilliant red it looked real.

He bowed his head and whispered "Protect my brother old gods. He is my brother, I need him alive. He promised to see me, with my other brother. Please, save him."

He was left alone in silence. Then footsteps, too heavy to be anyone other then one.

Sam stumbled over a root and looked over at him, and offered him a sort of half smile half grimace.

"Hello Jon." He said, standing in front of him.

Sam sat beside him, avoiding stepping on Ghost's tail.

"You've been here for hours Jon." He stated plainly. Jon nodded, unable to speak.

Sam turned to study the godswood and said "Does it remind you of Winterfell? Of your home?"

Jon bit back the harsh words that rose from his mind. He was grieving his brother, who would end in King's Landing the same as their father. Sam should not be here.
"Yes." He admitted, and turned back to Sam. "What are you doing here?"

Sam shrugged and said "You've been here alone with only Ghost, so I thought you shouldn't be alone. If it was my brother, I would be devastated."

They sat quietly for a minute, until Sam asked "What was your brother like?"

Jon looked at him and said "Do you want me to make you leave?"

Sam half smiled half grimaced again and said "No. But my mother always said it helped to talk about it."

Jon felt the fight leave his shoulders. He could order him away, send him far away to Eastwatch by the Sea, but he would regret it the next day.

"My brother was a good man. Like my father. Honorable to a fault, and he was pretty good with a sword." Jon shrugged and said "He took after Lady Stark, with red hair, and he was always taller then me, though he was a few moons younger."

Sam nodded and said "he sounds like a good man. Like another man I know."

Jon didn't ask, but continued "he was better at the lance then me, but I beat him often at swords. Theon would laugh when he got beaten, but he would just tell him that to shut up about it. And he always defended me from Lady Stark, even when we were too young to know what she was angry about. He almost killed Theon once when they were sparring and Theon japed about me being a bastard. He cracked his sword over his head and Father was never angrier."

Jon smiled at the memory and sighed "Now he marches for death, for a headsman's sword he doesn't deserve. That little prick of a king will have to be a pretty good swordsman to behead Robb himself."

Sam listened and said "you shouldn't just lock yourself away in the godswood. You're the Lord Commander, and you left Dolorous Ed in charge."

Jon shrugged and said nothing. He had no words to say.

Sam stood and said "You will come out of here for supper, and you will eat with us. You can't hide forever Jon Snow."

And he turned and walked away, stumbling over the occasional tree root.

Jon Snow remained at the heart tree, and could hear Robb urging him on.

"He's your friend, he's trying to help. Go on."

He wanted to shout "your not here, what does it matter to you!"

But he stood and sheathed his sword. Ghost stood dutifully, and they left the godswood behind.

EDWYN POV

Edwyn woke quickly today, hands launching to around his throat. He dreamed of the morning, quite a few days ago, when fingers had tightened around his throat, cutting the air from his lungs. He had gasped for breath, and had looked into his killer's eyes. Ice blue eyes that froze his insides with fear when he saw the absolute lack of feeling hidden in their depths. They were the eyes of a killer, who killed for pleasure. Like the eyes of Gregor Clegane when he was young.

He had shot up, and glanced around worriedly. Robb Stark sat stooped over in sleep, soft breathing the only noise in the forest.

He stood and brushed off his breeches. He would be glad to reach King's Landing, where he could get clean and sleep in a real bed.

The snap of a branch made him turn his head. Nothing was behind him.

He dismissed the noise. Most likely an animal of some sort.

He picked up his saddle bag and kicked the king boy, who fell over with an oomph.

"Get up, we should be in King's Landing today." He said. Robb managed to twist himself up and sit again. He uncrossed his legs stiffly and braced himself against a small rock nearby and stood wobbling.

Another snapping branch.

Robb's head spun in the direction of the noise, and he could almost imagine his eyes narrowed at the noise.

Edwyn reached for the dagger at his waist, but it was too late.

The sharp point of another dagger dug into the back of his neck, and a bead of blood trickled down his spine, making him freeze.

"Well lads, look who we have here."

HA, CLIFFIES! You all must hate me now, but it was so worth it.

Who is it that? Who caught Edwyn and Robb? Will they kill them all?

You don't know, do ya?

You ain't seen Jon Snow coming, did ya? Did ya? Totally surprise. Sorry for out of characterness, if any. I thought I did pretty good, but I'm not a good critic. I think everything I do is awesome.

Dear Marina Kai-Fai. You like Theon Greyjoy, do you. HOW? Like, honestly, HOW and WHY?

Answer me!

And Patrick, how would you suggest pulling Tyrion out of the Robb breakout? I need input and opinions.

THANKS FOR THE LOVE