A/N Hey guys! There are some things I would like to address. First, THANKS FOR YOUR THOUGHTS GUYS! Feel free to PM me anytime with questions, suggestions or complaints. Lol but don't expect spoilers :) Firstly, there is some material in this chapter that might make people uncomfortable. . .

Secondly, when I first started this story I simply looked at a map of Westeros that looked reasonably blank and looked big enough and thought that was where the bloodlands were. I didn't really consider at the time how that might affect the actual canon world but I should have and sorry for that. However, if where the bloodlands is somehow intersects with another place, please ignore it. I will make mistakes every once in a while and well, the place looked reasonably bare so I thought, why not? As to why it is only a week from Riverrun that was just pure estimation. I think I underestimated it there and so when I finish the story I will go back and change it. But listen, it isn't set in stone or whatever, you guys can imagine it being wherever you want.

Thirdly, I messed up (again) sorry :). In a few chapters previously I said that Everra's father had black hair but he does not. Everra and Jon get their raven hair from their mother, Everra's father has brown hair. Sorry about that. I'll change it soon as I can.

Anyway, please continue on and thanks again! Nothing belongs to me except the original characters!

Wait before i forget, I had this idea that at the end of the story :( if you guys had any suggestions or drabbles that you guys wanted me to write, about a certain scenario that didn't happen or about a small drabble about a character you guys could tell me and I could write it. For example, if you wanted me to write a drabble where this is in Modern times or Everra never comes back to Westeros etc. Just thought it would be cool! Can't wait too hear any suggestions. . . if you have any, that is :)

Chapter 33

"Get. Out."

The words exited her lips slowly, so that she need not repeat herself.

Talisa blinked at her in surprise, her eyes widening, "My lad—"

"Get. Out" Everra gritted out, her voice cold.

Talisa blinked once, twice, her face flushing before turning on her heel and running out of the room.

Maester Liwin gaped at her in shock, his eyes incredulous.

"My lady," he breathed, "Why such coldness? The girl is a talented healer—"

"I was unaware you had stopped being a talented healer Maester Liwin," she snapped, yanking off her furs and getting out of bed, ignoring the way her muscles shifted uncomfortably.

"You mustn't be so hasty, my lady," he cried, rushing towards her, "Your stitches might rip."

"They will if she did them," she muttered under her breath, ignoring the suspicious look he sent her way.

"My lady you have been asleep for a few days," he said gently.

She allowed him to guide her towards the bed once more and waited patiently as he checked on her stitches.

"Your movements must be limited for the next few days, my lady," he told her, taking a step away from her body.

"The damages?" she asked, fingering the sleeve of her nightgown.

"Nothing we can not recover from," he replied, "There was damage to the battlements and the bridge, the front courtyards, but the inside of the castle was unharmed as were the two towers."

Everra nodded at his words, inwardly relived to hear that the damages were not too substantial.

She stood from the bed, her body losing its tense and angry frame as she looked out the window.

"May you summon my handmaiden?" she asked, her back to him.

She could feel him tense from behind her and knew that with the time it took for him to come up with a reply meant that—

"Anna's dead, isn't she?" she asked simply.

"Yes," the old man replied gravely, bowing his head.

Everra was more concerned for her raven haired older brother than the old mans grief.

Jon. . . she thought, her insides tightening as she realised that her wish had come true.

Stannis's men had killed Anna and that meant she did not have to do it herself, which meant that Jon would not hate her.

For now anyway, she thought, clasping her hands together.

"Find me another," she commanded, dismissing him.

He nodded and bowed, exiting the room with a quiet slam of the door.

Her new handmaiden was a small, thin girl whom was at the very most ten and five. Unlike Anna's yellow hair, her's was a light ginger, with freckles gracing her upper cheeks.

"Vera," she told her confidently when asked, "My name is Vera Hain."

She was very unlike Anna in more ways then one. While Anna had been quiet and soft spoken, Vera talked loudly to fill the awkward silence. While Anna had a hard time meeting her eyes, Vera— while looking slightly fearful— looked at her directly in the eyes.

Everra was not too sure whether or not she liked the change, while she admitted it was. . . refreshing for one of her people to not fear her completely, she—for lack of better term, she told herself— missed the quiet, efficient way Anna would serve her.

This girl had managed to tell Everra of her two older brothers, her younger sister and her parents and her entire life story within the time of putting on her dress and doing its laces.

Everra did not stop her however and was admittedly amused by the younger girl.

"Not that my brothers know how to fight, my lady," Vera was saying, running a brush through her hair after she had finished with the laces of her dress, "But they don't realise that—"

Everra stayed silent and merely listened on to her banter though she did not think it was possible for her to care less about the girls brothers, she already had one of her own to worry about.

A knock on the door.

Vera placed the brush down and walked towards the wooden door, her bun bouncing as she did so.

The door opened to reveal Jon and Everra's heart tightened slightly at the sight of her mostly uninjured brother. Though she quickly noticed that he did not seem to share her sentiment. He had glanced at Vera, his eyes growing dark with anger before snapping his gaze up to hers, his hands curling into fists.

"His grace has summoned you, my lady," he told her, though his tone struggled to stay even, "In the great hall."

Everra nodded and thanked him quietly, though her eyes never left him.

He eyed her with poorly concealed fury and disgust before stalking off, his strides brisk and stiff.

Everra let out a loud breathe as he disappeared from view and ignored Vera's questioning look.

"Don't," Everra warned, rubbing at the space between her eyebrows.

Vera winced at her tone, her eyes locked on the ground.

I don't have time for this, Everra thought.

She really, really did not.

Robb is sitting in the great hall, breaking his fast with the other Lords when Everra comes into the hall, her long, black hair unpinned and bellowing down her back to her waist. Though she still looked beautiful she looked slightly disheveled and pale, the stitched cut on the side of her cheek glaringly more apparent.

She caught sight of him easily, as he was sitting at the end of the hall at the long table, in the centre seat. The seat beside him was empty— for her— and he could see her gaze flicker towards it despite the distance between them.

Relief flooded through his veins at the sight of her and Robb stood from his chair, attracting the other Lord's attention.

Everra had finished walking towards them by then and the other Lords had rose with him and some muttered their regards and she replied her thanks.

An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as Robb noticed that she did not look in his direction once, even though she was standing a little more than an arm length away from him.

"My lady," he announced, staring at her face intently, watching as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, "I am glad you are well."

"I thank his grace for his kind words," she replied, her voice cool.

Her eyes then flickered away from him to glance down the long table, her eyes narrowing.

Just as Robb was about to ask her what the problem was, she asked him, "Your grace, where is Jon?"

Robb stiffened slightly at the mention of his — their— brother and replied "I am afraid I do not know, my lady."

Everra frowned at his words before nodding her thanks and turning on her heel to walk out of the hall.

"My lady?" Robb called out for her, walking around the table, "Are you not eating?"

Everra paused and then turned back to look at him, her eyes slightly unfocused, as though she were thinking of something else, "I am afraid I lost my appetite, your grace, please forgive me for not sitting with you."

Robb frowned at her, confusion growing within him. He thought of all the things we wanted too say to her, all the things that he had dreamt of saying to her— all the things he dreamt of doing. All the words were just at the tip of his tongue but before he could open his mouth she was leaving the hall, her raven locks bouncing behind her as she did so.

"My lady," a voice cried out from behind her.

Everra stopped her strides to allow Lord Yullian to scramble to her, his eyes wide and his voice high.

"My Lord," she replied, watching him impassively.

"I—I just wanted to commend you on your bravery and for your aid in the battle," he rambled on aimlessly.

"This is my home," she replied.

"Yes, of course," he agreed, "But I must ask as to where Lord Edwin is? Surely he must be accompanying you?"

It occurred to Everra then that she had never sent a raven to RedRun informing them of Lord Edwin's treachery, or of Anna's for that matter.

"He's dead," she told him bluntly, "He was a traitor."

His eyes widened— almost comically before he said in disbelief, "Truly?"

"Truly," she reaffirmed.

They stood in awkward silence for a while before he came to his senses and said, "Well, sorry to have disturbed you my lady, I must continue on with my duties."

Everra frowned at this, the urge to look for Jon inside her dulling. It was times like these where Everra remembered the more. . . boring parts of being a leader of a great house or any house for that matter. Reparations. However much Everra wanted to not have to do something as tedious as talking with a stonemason in times such as these, it bothered her more than she cared to admit that Lord Yullian would be the one seeing over the reparations to her home.

"Lord Yullian," she commanded swiftly, watching as the older man stopped in his tracks, flinching at the sound of her tone, "Take me to see the stonemason with you."

He cast her a surprised look, as though it was incomprehensible that she was showing any concern for her home.

"As you wish."

When Everra entered the chaos and rubble that was once the front courtyard, she barely recognised it. While it had always been busy with stable boys, knights, soldiers, children, servants roaming the front, it had always had a . . . neatness too it, a sense of order. Now, it was as though one of the seven hells had broken free and torn its way into her home. Smoke still lingered up in the sky, crumbled red stone littered the floors, various walls looked as though they were on the verge of collapse. Soldiers, both wounded and healthy were scattered around various areas of the courtyard leading to the side and Everra saw Lord Yullian flinch at the sound of a man screaming in agony.

Overall, it was worse than the Maester had made it out to be, though he had been right when he said it was not permanent damage.

"Reparations must begin," Everra stated, clasping her hands together, "Do we have the coin to start?"

Lord Yullian nodded at her and told her, "The mines are still successful, my lady. If we are careful with the expenses, we should be alright."

Everra frowned at the word should but kept her concerns to herself and nodded.

"Then we have a lot of work to do."

Robb walked down the hallway, his footfalls echoing around him. The day had been aimless, the only actual work Robb had done was listen to reports and read letters from Winterfell. The letters were a welcome relief in the chaos around him, a warm feeling growing in his stomach as he thought of home.

He had the opportunity to explore the castle all day by himself (a guard accompanied him, always a few meters behind him) , having waved away the servant that offered to show him around. The castle was peculiar looking and so different to Winterfell it made his heart ache but he had to admit it had its certain unique beauty. The stark redness had an undeniable appeal yet Robb still felt slightly disturbed as he walked around the castle. A chill kept on overcoming him as he took another step, it felt as though he were walking on top of graves due to the alarming resemblance the floor had to blood.

The area in front of him was for the most part deserted, though a few people were still scattered around the area. There was not much damage in this area of the castle and Robb felt slightly relieved. Guilt had begun to boil in his stomach, churning and twisting every time he looked at a dead or wounded soldier or at a ruined wall or sight.

He knew he shouldn't have felt guilty but he did anyway.

The last of Stannis's followers were either imprisoned or had fled Westeros, never to return. At least Robb hoped they would not. They had not yet heard from Stannis's daughter Shireen or his wife and Robb suspected that they might never. At least, not for a long while. Robb did not feel a particular desire to seek them out but knew his Lords might insist upon it.

What would be the point? He wondered, Stannis is dead, his supporters are dead as well, his armies depleted. . . What use would having a child and her mother do? They had no men to raise to their aid or any support for that matter either.

Robb frowned at his thought, staring mindlessly into the sky. The sun warmed his skin, the heat becoming glaringly more apparent to Robb with every passing moment he was outside. He yearned for Winterfell now more than ever, yearned for the cold air to grace his skin, yearned for the cloudy sky and soft breeze.

He yearned for home.

An agonised scream disrupted his thoughts and Robb jumped slightly, startled. His eyes scanned the area quickly, his gaze landing on a young shoulder shouting in agony, shoving at a woman whose back was to Robb. Robb could see a hint of her long braid tucked into her shirt, could see a hint of tanned, graceful fingers and a weird feeling overcame him. It made his fingers twitch and his stomach flutter nervously and before he could fully comprehend what he was doing he was walking towards them, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

The girl was clearly struggling with the boy, whom was still determinedly shoving at her arms and yelling at her. Robb's stomach squeezed at the gruesome sight of the boys severed leg. His knee was barely connected to the upper part of his leg, allowing Robb too see the bone and blood seeping through.

"Hold still," the girl was saying, tying a cloth around his leg.

"You can't!" the boy whimpered, clutching at his leg, "You can't do this! Ser! Please, help me!"

The girl only seemed to take notice of him then, her brown eyes peering up at him for a moment before taking advantage of the boys distraction and tied another cloth closer to the wound.

Robb crouched down beside them, holding the boy down, his violent tremors shaking Robb's hands.

"Please!" the boy whimpered, his eyes wild with panic.

"If she doesn't do it, you'll die," Robb said, grabbing a hold of the boy's shirt and yanking it upward towards his mouth, "Bite on it."

The boy whimpered at the sight of the saw and Robb managed to shove the shirt in his mouth and muttered, "Lie back down if you don't want too look."

He glanced toward the girl and was suddenly aware of just how pretty she was. With her exotic features and elegant hands she would be considered beautiful by any standards and Robb knew this.

The boy cried out in pain as the sick sound of the girl sawing on his bone filled the courtyard.

By the time it was finished, the boy had passed out from shock and pain, his head lying limply on the ground. The girl shot him a look and Robb was surprised to realise that it was one of anger. He blinked at her in surprise and was startled at the feeling of the boys limp body being moved out of his hands by a man. He watched as the boy was bandaged and carried onto a wooden stretcher and slowly Robb rose from his position on the ground, suddenly aware of his blood stained hands.

He whirled around the area slightly and caught eye of the girl once more. Something propelled himself forward and he found himself walking towards her. This time, she caught eye of him earlier and with a dark look she stood from the ground, slinging her kit over her shoulder and wiped her bloodied fingers.

"What's your name?" he asked her retreating figure.

He saw her pause for a moment, before she turned back to look at him, anger lingering in her brown eyes.

"Tailsa," she replied shortly, shifting on her feet.

"Your last name?" Robb asked again, curious.

She snorted at this, her mouth twisting, "You want to know which side my family fights for?"

"You know which family I fight for," Robb told her, "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

She shrugged at him and replied shortly, "I am not involved in the fighting, merely the aftermath."

Robb looked at her for a few moments and though he felt curious to question her more, for a moment he did not. The weird feeling he had felt once before began reappearing once more and it shook him. More than he wanted to admit.

"You are brave for that," he told her and he meant it as well, "I hold great admiration for your skill yet I still seem to have angered you. Why?"

She stiffened at his question and turned on her heel, stalking away from him and yet replied, "Innocent lives are being sacrificed for your war—"

"My war?" Robb asked, bristling, "This is not my war. This is the North's war, the South's War and everything in between. It is not my war. I did not start it or ask for one."

"And yet you continue to fight," she said stubbornly, stopping in her tracks, "You continue to let innocents die, despite you claiming you don't want to fight."

"It is not that simple," he stated, his voice cold.

Talisa let out a bitter laugh at this before replying, "That's what they all say."

She walked away from him after that and this time Robb let her, all the while unaware of the green eyes watching the exchange.

The unfamiliar feeling that boiled inside her as she watched the two of them was spreading quickly throughout her body, making her blood boil. Her hands clenched slightly at her side as she watched Robb shake his head at her retreating figure, his auburn curls falling over his eyes.

Everra quickly moved back into the shadows, hiding herself from his blue eyes. She frowned and placed a hand on her stomach, the feeling inside her rushing to her heart which thumped quicker in response, the sound loud in Everra's ears. It was a feeling that made her insides churn in anger and bitterness and though Everra knew what it was, she would not admit it to herself.

Fool, she cursed herself, you bloody fool.

She leaned froward from where she rested against the wall and with one glance at Robb once more, she hurried down the hallway.

Love was a fickle thing, she knew this like she knew the back of her own palm. Love was dangerous and deadly yet Everra knew it was powerful. Even more powerful than fear. Fear was what she had in her favour. Fear made him go to war, fear for his sisters made him stay at war but fearful of the wrath of Lord Frey on the other hand. . .

Everra frowned as wandered, her mind deep in thought. While Robb did know the truth now—except about Talisa— Everra did not know how that. . . affected him. He was shocked and surprised and hurt but Everra could not tell how Robb was affected by this knowledge.

Would he still fall in love with her? she wondered and she grew cold at the thought.

She stopped her strides, her legs feeling like stone.

Could he still fall in love with her?

Another sliver of ice shot up her spine at the thought and the flash of fear that erupted in her stomach startled her. Her green eyes widened at the feeling before being overcome by a cold, etched feeling.

The only way to make sure he does not fall in love with her, she thought, is too make him fall in love with someone else.

Everra remembered the old woman' words, remembered how she said that what happened that night that Lord Edwin died may have to happen again.

A sigh escaped her mouth at the thought.

Perfect, she thought, just perfect.

She continued on walking absentmindedly before her shoulder collided with someone else and it made her take a few steps back in shock. It took her only a few seconds to realise that the person was Jon and she opened her mouth to speak before he could leave.

"Jon," she called out, "I've been trying to find you since I saw you this morning."

Jon stiffened at her words, his brown eyes unreadable.

"Apologies my lady, I was—"

A flash of grief appeared in his eyes as his sentence cut off abruptly and silence grew between them once more. Everra took the moment to truly look at her brother and nearly frowned at the black circles under his eyes and the unnatural paleness of his skin. Some people wore grief like a mask and some wore it like a bag of bricks on their shoulders. It was obvious to Everra that Jon was the latter.

"I'm. . . sorry," she told him, "I heard about A—"

"Don't," he said harshly, cutting her off.

Everra blinked. Once. Twice.

"I beg your pardon—"

"Don't tell me about your false grief, my lady," Jon told her coldly, "I see that you have replaced her easily enough."

Everra's eyes narrowed at him warningly as she replied, "Should I not have a handmaiden for the rest of my life simply because a handmaiden I had once died? I did not even have her for a long while—"

"She was loyal too you," Jon spat at her, his voice venomous, "Which is more than I can say for the majority of your household."

Everra nearly laughed in his face at his words.

"Was she now?' she asked him cooly, "Are you sure about that?"

They glared at each other furiously, the air thickening round them but even through the blind rage and grief in Jon's eyes, Everra saw the flicker of doubt in them, the flicker of fear. She felt oddly triumphant at the look in his eye before he cleared his throat.

"Forgive me, my lady," Jon said, brushing past her, "I must go say my goodbyes to Anna's father."

Her hand wrapped around his arm like a vice, "You aren't leaving."

She wasn't sure whether or not she was saying it as a command or a question. Regardless, Jon did not seem to notice as he replied, "No."

Everra could practically hear the but.

"He's dying. The Maester said he only had a few days at the very most."

Everra waited for many hours before she approached the side of the castle where she knew she could find him. Part of her was urging her not too and the other half was resigned to her actions, merely keeping quiet.

Though the door was wooden and heavy, Everra could still hear the sound of the man's harsh coughs and whispers of pain and she opened the door quietly, listening to it creak.

The healer jumped at the sight of her, her eyes widening.

"My lady," she exclaimed, falling into a curtsy, "I did not expect you hear. No one sent word—"

"You were not sent a word because I did not tell anyone to send one," Everra interrupted her swiftly.

The girl cast an awkward glance towards the man, clutching onto the cloth in her hands tightly.

"I wasn't aware you knew him, my lady," she said lightly, "I heard that the last of his family died, quite recently I might add."

If she noticed Everra's coldness it did not show.

"He keeps asking for her,' she said quietly, her voice a mere whisper.

That caught Everra's attention.

"For who?"

"I don't know," the girl admitted, "I think his daughter or his wife, maybe."

Everra cast a glance towards the man and gestured for the girl to pass her the cloth, which she did.

"Leave us," she commanded coldly, walking towards the foot of the bed.

The girl left hurriedly but closed the door softly behind her.

Everra stood there for a while, simply watching the man whimper and wither in his bed. His grey hair was damp with sweat. His tan skin had grown more pale and sickly from her memory and his thin mouth was dry and wide open, his whimpers of pain filling the room.

Everra walked to the side of the bed, to where the healer was sitting and sat down.

The man turned to face her blindly, muttering incoherently.

Everra merely lifted the cloth to his head and patted his head gently.

"I don't know if you remember me," she said gently. He stilled at her words, his groans stopping as he listened, "I was only a girl when I last saw you."

Her green eyes tightened at the memory before she glanced down to look at him once more.

"I was six, I believe. Approaching seven. I had wanted to talk to you for a while," she said gently, grabbing a hold of his shaking hand, "For many years. They say that children have a short memory. That they forget what they ate the day before last. I don't know if thats true but for me it was not. I remembered your wife. She was a kind woman. And she made my mother happy. I was sad when she died, even sadder about how she died. It took me two years to muster the courage to talk to you. Two years."

"I'm not going to apologise for the grief that has once again come to you," she continued, "I will not pretend that I had any intentions of forgiving your daughter for her treachery. But what I will say is is that I admire your bravery. It may not be the most obvious kind of bravery or the most well known but it is bravery nonetheless. I admired it as a girl and I admire it now."

She removed her hand from the corpse and was surprised to find that the man had just taken his last breath.

Catelyn Stark was conflicted. She had always had a strict moral code since she was a girl. The word's of her house were branded into her skin, into her hair. Family. Duty. Honour. Yet that did nothing to edge the guilt that grown within her since her son had woken from his drug induced sleep. The flash of betrayal and hurt in his blue eyes — so like her own— felt like a thousand daggers being plunged straight into her chest.

She did what she had to do for her family. She followed her duty as a mother— yet why did she feel as though she had not? As though she had betrayed every ever part of her being by scheming with Lady Everra to prevent her son from going to a battle that would have gotten him killed.

Catelyn froze at the thought and felt a sliver of gratefulness grow in her belly at the fact that Robb had not been the one to fight Stannis.

Family. Duty. Honour.

All she wanted to do was rest for the rest of her life and mourn for the loss of her husband. For the loss of Ned. It pained her to think of his dark eyes and of how his laugh sounded and how his smile warmed her to her very core. She could feel the pangs of grief begin to creep up on her as they did in the dead hours of the night and shook them away.

She had barely left her room the entire day and when she had it had only been to move inside the castle. An air of hostility appeared whenever she walked into a room that held only Bloodmen and Catelyn was far too drained to question it.

War, she told herself, it all comes down to war.

The sun had begun to set and she looked out from her window and was nearly mesmerised by the sight. The feeling did not last long however, as she began to miss the dark stone of Winterfell and slowly turned away from the window and walked to the hearth, trying to keep warm.

She could not help but feel that it would not be the last time her and Lady Everra dug their graves together in the name of her son.

"Marriage."

The word slipped from her mouth faster than she could have thought.

Robb did not meet her gaze since the words had exited his mouth and Everra tried to ignore the feeling of all the eyes in the room on her.

"To Oberyn Martell?" she asked, her eyes searching across the sea of faces.

"Yes," Lord Bolton spoke loudly, attracting her attention.

Why haven't I killed you yet? She thought scathingly.

"If you are willing, for our King."

Everra stiffened slightly at his words but made sure that she looked detached from the conversation— from the suggestion.

"Very well," she said, clasping her hands together.

It could be worse. . .

Everra waited until after all the other Lords had gone before she approached Robb, who avoided looking into her eyes.

"Lady Everra I—"

"I have something to discuss with you," she told him, ignoring his look of surprise.

Robb blinked at her in surprise, his blue eyes widening.

"Speak freely, my lady—"

"Not here," she said, glancing around meaningfully, "I'll send Andromache for you later on in the evening your grace. She will show you where to go."

Robb nodded at her, though he still looked slightly confused.

"It's important," she told him softly.

Oh how it was indeed.

Everra tied the laces of her robe together, watching as Vera filled the bath with steaming water. Her stomach fluttered as she clutched a cup of wine in her hands and brought it up to her lips to take a large gulp.

"Is it wise to be drinking so late at night, my lady?" Vera asked.

Everra glanced at her an uncomfortable feeling rising in her throat, "I don't have you hear to question my actions."

Vera's cheeks warmed at her words and she looked down at her feet.

"Go," Everra stated, gesturing towards the door, "Your done for the evening."

Vera snapped her head to look up at her but still looked wary, "My lady do you not need help after you bathe—"

"Go," Everra snapped at her, taking another sip of wine.

Vera left the room hurriedly, understanding that Everra was not in an agreeable mood. Everra glanced towards Andromache to find her already staring up at her, her head tilted to the side.

"You know what you have to do," she told her gently, walking towards the wooden door.

Andromache leapt off the bed and purred loudly as she stretched. She patted over towards Everra, her tale wagging around slowly behind her as she moved.

"Keep watch when you get back," is all Everra told her before she shut the door, leaving Andromache in the darkness of the hallway.

Everra glanced towards the steaming bath and walked towards it before reaching up for the laces holding her robe together and gently untied it, exposing her bare body to the warm air from the fire. She slid her arms out of the silk robe before climbing into the warm bath, her muscles instantly relaxing against the soothing feeling. Yet, her mind was filled with thoughts.

You are whoring yourself, she thought bitterly, shifting against the back of the bath.

Everra remembered the first time. She remembered how his kisses had felt and though it did little to calm the storm inside of her she clung to the one thing that did.

He can't die. . . He won't die.

When Robb reaches the front of Everra's door that led to her bed chambers he did not know he was there. The castle was dark and silent, its inhabitants having retreated into their chambers in an attempt for sleep. He only realised he was there because of the small light being emitted from the small space between the floor and her door and gently knocked at the door.

He heard a quiet murmur coming from inside the room and so he took it as a confirmation and opened it, stepping into the room. He frowned at Andromache as she did not come in and instead lay herself on the stone outside the door. He let the door close quietly and glanced around the room, his skin growing alarmingly hot as he caught sight of Everra still in her bath, glaringly naked.

"Excuse me, my lady," he muttered, glancing away from her and "I thought you said it was alright for me too come in."

For a moment she did not reply but Robb still kept his gaze focused steadily on the ground, his blood rushing to his ears. He heard her get out of the water and tried to prevent his mind from remembering how her body had looked beneath his all those weeks ago.

"Robb," she told him gently, "It's alright."

Robb only raised his gaze slowly and was. . . surprised to find that she had not fully covered herself from his view and was instead merely patting herself with a towel.

He felt warm all over his body and he tried to prevent his eyes from drifting down her body.

"Your not a child Robb," she said flippantly, as though she were not standing naked in front of him, "Besides," she added, "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Robb scowled at this and replied hotly, "My lady, I am not proud of my actions that night—"

Everra scoffed loudly at him and dropped the towel on the ground and sauntered towards him, her hips swaying as she moved.

Don't look down don't look down don't look down

Robb tried his best to look unaffected as she stood in front of him, even though he could feel his breeches grow uncomfortably tight. She seemed to notice as well, if her small smirk said anything. The air around them had thickened significantly, making it hard for Robb to breathe.

"Why are you trying to seduce me?" he tried japing, though his eyes seemed to drift down to her lips.

Everra raised an eyebrow at him, "Seduce?" she asked, as though something were funny, "Who said I'm trying to seduce you?"

Robb flushed at this, though he tried to hide it desperately.

She took a step closer towards him and Robb could have sworn then and there that he could feel her body heat radiating out towards him. His arms were limp at his side as she reached up to begin unlacing his clothing. Robb knew he should stop her but he didn't. By the old gods and new he did not reach up and stop her.

She was so close to him now that he could every curve of her body against his, could feel the shape of her breasts against his chest and lust boiled in his stomach and the urge to press his lips to hers had never been more strong. But he couldn't let himself do it. He couldn't.

Robb glanced down and was surprised to find that all the lacing on his tunic and vest had been undone already and he gulped loudly.

Stop her, he yelled at himself.

He didn't.

He let her shift his clothing up over his head and watched her with heat in his eyes as she dropped the clothing onto the floor. He reached behind her head to let the hair pin go free and watched as her hair immediately tumbled down to her waste. She leaned forward slightly and began pressing kisses onto his chest and Robb felt his desire grow as she worked her way up to his neck, his breath becoming louder and louder.

"I can stop you know," she whispered against his skin, "Just say the word and I'll stop."

She nuzzled his neck seductively and Robb had to prevent himself from groaning aloud at the sensation.

Stop! He yelled at himself, Think of what your parents taught you.

She seemed to sense him withdrawing and what she said next made the blood in his veins alight with a roar of fire.

"Perhaps I'll just wait for Oberyn."

She said it to provoke him, he knew it. She made not effort to hide it, yet in that moment it didn't matter to Robb as he pressed his lips to hers ferociously. The fire inside of him growing larger and larger with every touch or nip that passed between their lips. He sunk his fingers in her hair and moved them backwards towards the bed. They paused for a moment, separating so Everra could work on the laces of his breeches and she shoved them down his legs quickly, leaving them both naked. They surged towards each other once more, their lips locked together as Robb hoisted Everra up into the air by her waist and her legs automatically wrapped his hips and her arms around his neck as they moved forward to the bed.

A/N Not gonna lie, that last part was bloody uncomfortable to write guys. . . uhhh hope you enjoyed it?

Until next time,

FionaKevin073