We started to march again, but this time, not to battle, but to a wedding.
I desperately pleaded with Robb to not go, saying that the Freys will kill him. "Do you want to die before you ever meet Ned?" I asked one night, feeling my angry tears run down my face. I briefly thought about telling him about the new babe, but I quickly decided against it.
Robb turned to me. "If I don't do this, than I might never meet him. I can't meet my son if he's killed by a Greyjoy," I turned away, upset, and went to bed.
One day, we were told of Balon Greyjoy's death. I already knew, as Lady Juliana Lolliston had told me the day before. "It is said that he fell over a bridge into the storming water," she had said. "But other claim that it was an assassin sent by his brother Euron," I nodded.
"Daenerys Targaryen now has 8,000 Unsullied soldiers, 1,500 men from Qarth, and 2,000 Second Sons, who are trained cavalry. It is said that she is looking to ship at least 7,000 more men from the Free Cities." I sighed, sitting back. "Do you know if she plans to attack Westeros?" Juliana, in all her beauty, shook her head, her golden curls bouncing. "No. Some say she will, while others think she will conquer Essos before she does. It is all speculation,"
"I speculate that she'll come if she's invited," I muttered. "Pardon?" Juliana asks. "Nothing. Tell me of King's Landing." Juliana pursed her lips. "I am sorry to say, but Sansa has married Tyrion Lannister," I lean my head back and curse, "Gods be good." Then, a fire filled me. "I swear, if he touches on red hair on her head, I'll personally cut his cock off and feed it to him,"
I take a deep breath close my eyes.
"Your Grace, it is also known that the Wall will soon be under attack by Wildings. They are majorly under manned, and they might fall." Juliana continues to say.
"I'll write a letter commanding Maester Luwin to send every theif, murderer, and rapist to the Wall." She hesitates. "Men are always given a choice."
"I am the Queen, and I'm changing the law. I'll also write to other lords."
A pause of silence.
"You are dismissed. Spend some time with Rorin."
I didn't permit Rorin, Juliana's young son, to be near me. He would remind me of Ned, and then I would probably weep. I couldn't weep, not now. I had a war to win.
So the next day, Robb and everyone else received news of Balon. The army celebrated, and I excused myself politely.
Just when I was about to go to sleep, Robb, drunk, stumbled into our tent. "We need the fucking Freys, Anna," he told me, cupping my face with his hands. "We need to go home, so I can see Ned. I've been a terrible father Anna. I promise you, I will survive the Twins to go home." I could smell the ale on his breath.
"You're drunk Robb. You won't survive the Twins. Just go to bed."
He didn't like this, and said, "I'll do it! Just watch me!" Robb turned to leave the tent, but I called out softly, "Robb. Don't come home for me, or even Ned. Come home for the baby in my belly." He turned around. "You're pregnant." I nodded, a smile on my face.
He ran to me, picked me up, twirled me, and then set me down again. "Really?" I nodded again. He kissed me, and we soon fell asleep, his hand on our babe.
• • •
When Robb woke up with a terrible headache, he answered my question. "I'm still going to marry Edmure and Roslin. But maybe I should send you back to Winterfell." I had immediately protested, and angrily stormed out.
By the time I reached Juliana's tent, I had realized that nothing I could say or do would change Robb's mind. But maybe...
No.
I shouldn't.
But my family...
No.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
Yes.
"Juliana?" I asked in a whisper. She was holding Rorin. "Your Grace," she said. "I need you to do something." She nodded, and I told her my plan.
"Forgive me, your Grace, but that is... Immoral." I sighed. "I know, but I have to do it. For Ned, for Robb, and for Lyanan or Theon, my babe. I... I have to. There is no other choice." I had a feeling that she knew that I was trying to convince myself more than her. "Of course, your Grace."
I had left, feeling guilty, but also proud.
I need to protect my family.
• • •
The news reached us scarcely a month later.
"Gods," Robb said quietly. "Walder Frey passed away," he told us. I acted appropriately and shook my head. "Edwyn, his heir, and Edwyn's brother Black Walder dueled to see who would become Lord of the Crossing. Black Walder won, but received a fatal wound. Before his death, Black Walder killed Edwyn's daughter Palla. Petyr, better known as Petyr Pimple, is now Lord of the Crossing."
"Gods be good," I whispered. Palla... She wasn't supposed to... "Lust for a crown seems to be greater than usual these days," I say after a moment of silence. "Anything else?" Robb nodded.
"Lord Petyr says that he wishes that Roslin and Edmure be married after the war. We will group up with his army at the Twins, and then head North." Robb says. "As long as his daughter, Perra, becomes a ward of Winterfell and is married to Rickon when they both come of age."
Lady Catelyn starts to protest, but I interrupt. "Write him back that we are sorry for his loses, and that we agree that war is no time for a wedding. Also tell him that we need to consider it, and we wish to see if Perra will soon be called Perra Pimple,"
Lady Catelyn seemed content with that, and everybody was dismissed.
• • •
A fortnight later, we arrived at the Twins. We were greeted warmly by Petyr Pimple and his daughter, Perra, who I found was an actually lovely little girl, with fair hair and a heart shaped face. I noticed that his wife wasn't with him. "She's quite ill," Petyr said.
I scanned the crowd for the woman who was sent. I find her and match her to my descriptions. Dark hair framing a narrow yet attractive face. She was standing very close to Petyr, and every once in a while he would look at her, searching for approval, and she would send a smile.
This girl, Beatrice, I believed, was as good as Juliana said.
Petyr welcomed us, and soon we were tucked away in our bedrooms to prepare for the feast. I bathed quietly, and dressed in a dark and dull purple, with black netting covering down my neck to the neckline.
Robb intertwined his arm in mine and said, "Remember the feast in Winterfell?" I laugh lightly. "How could I forget?" A pause. "It seems like forever ago," Robb nods, but now we are in the Great Hall.
Robb and I are seated next to Petyr, but my attention was on Beatrice, who was sitting right below us, where Petyr's close family members sat. Beatrice should be sitting in the crowd, if anywhere.
Robb gently nudged me. "Yes?" I asked, stepping out of her daze. "What are you looking at?" He asked in a low mutter. "Nothing," I said, shaking my head. Robb look unconvinced, so I added, "I'm just thinking about what it would be like to be raised a Frey."
Robb chuckled, "Miserable, probably," I cracked a smile at that.
Petyr said something, and Robb turned away from me. I accidentally made eye contact with Beatrice, and she stood up, and walked out of the hall. "Excuse me, love, I'm feeling tired," I said to Robb. He looked concerned as his eyes flashed to my stomach. "It's okay," He nods, and turns back to Petyr Pimple.
I found the woman in the hall, sitting by a window. Her dress was dark and seductive, with a black velvet top with a simple curved neckline. Her arms and collarbones were covered by a sheer dark blue. Her skirt was a lighter blue silk, and at her waistline was intricate blue flowers with pearls.
"Your Grace," Beatrice said, curtseying. "I didn't expect to see you at the feast," I say, "Whores usually aren't." Beatrice shrugs with a grin on her face. "Petyr believes he has found his true love. He's insisted that I become his most trusted advisor."
I sit down, smoothing out my gown in the process. "Your dress is rather elaborate." I note after a moment of silence. "Yes, Petyr had it made for me for today's feast." She smiled sheepishly. But I could see straight through her mask, since I was so much like her. I could see greed in her brown eyes; she was power hungry, and wanted to rise above her station in life.
"Palla wasn't supposed to die." I say. Beatrice shrugs again. "She was in line of succession. She rivaled Petyr's claim." I pursed my lips. "Are you hoping to kill his wife, and then become his lady?"
Beatrice's mask crumbles for a split second, and I can see fury. She recovers quickly. "I deserve it. I was the one who had to kill four people. Four! I at least deserve a good title." I shook my head. "He might not marry you." Beatrice let out a cold and harsh laugh. "Trust me, he will."
Beatrice stood up, and with a flurry of skirts, stalked off.
I know she's going to be trouble.