Robb

"Ya know," Yondu said, reaching up and scratching at his stubble-lined cheek, "the last time I saw the Umbers they held a feast for me. Brought in some… I can't fucking remember what kind of bird it was but it was a damn good one. Think they used a honey glaze on it. There were these… little tiny potatos too. Somehow they figured out how to actually get gravy inside them. Inside the potatos. Like an explosion of flavor." He rattled the chains that were clasped around his wrists. "I get the sense I'm not gonna get even a biscuit."

Robb merely shot him a dirty look before leaning his head against the wooden post he was chained too.

"I remember that feast!" Drax proclaimed happily. "Barbary Dustin was there. She finally let me insert my large throbbing man cock into her womanly pillow-like ass."

Gamora made a face. "None of us need to hear about this."

"What does needing to hear it have to do with me telling you?" Drax said in confusion. He looked up, pondering. "I think she also used a honey glaze…"

"So this is how I die," Robb grumbled.

"We aren't dead yet, boy," Yondu commented. "The Umbers ain't killed us yet."

"I meant my brain rotting in my skull from having to listen to Drax talk of his conquests."

Yondu opened his mouth only to snap it shut. "Fair point, boy, fair point."

"That goes for the rest of us too!" a Wildling called out about 10 feet away from them. "None of us are interested about your titty fucking anyway, you green bastard!"

Drax frowned at that. "But my parents were married. And I never placed my mighty member between Barbary's breats; they were far too small for that. I considered tracking down Cersei Lannister at Harrenhal and trying with her, for her breasts were larger and I thought they might be able to capture and contain throbbing girth of my member but she wasn't there so I settled for allowing two serving girls to stimulate me with their hands. They called me the Knight of the Laughing Tree for how I bellowed at that antics."

"THAT'S where that name you suggested to me came from?!" Gamora screeched.

"For fuck's sake!" someone else cried out.

"Yes, we did fuck," Drax said happily, a dreamy little smile on his face. "It took two of them because my member is so large that it can not be handled by a single woman unless she is larger. Which I do not mind… that provides a cushion for my massive testicles that are always overflowing with my seed…"

"You know," Robb muttered, "people used to mutter when they saw me and Jon together that I wasn't a real Stark. Since I have the Tully looks. I'm wishing that were true at the moment."

Gamora glowered at him at that little comment. "Just because Drax likes to discuss his conquests?"

"Because this entire family is screwed up when it comes to sex." Gamora opened her mouth but Robb merely said, "Rhaegar" and she snapped her jaw shut.

"Like you and that wife of yours are ones to talk," Yondu commented. "I heard you two ruttin' like real wolves when ya thought we were all asleep."

Robb blushed at that, not bothering to inform them that it hadn't been his choice; Roslin had been the one to come to him and inform him they weren't going to make love that night. They were 'going to violently fuck because you need the stress relief'. So instead of answering his grandfather who was also one half of the leader of the Children of the Forest (because that was how fucked up his life had become) Robb merely turned away and looked around the pen he and the other wildlings had been chained up in.

Roslin's lie had worked to save their lives but that didn't mean the Umber men were willing to show them any comfort or privileges. To them they were still the savage monsters from beyond the Wall and were treated as such. Roslin merely allowed them to keep their heads attached to their necks. So Robb and the rest had been chained up to a post that had been hastily pounded into the ground in the middle of an abandoned farm and left there to sit in the cold while the Umbers figured out what to do with them. Occasionally one of the men would grab a wildling and drag them away to be interrogated but otherwise they were left to their own devices. As for Roslin she was in the crumbling house that the Smalljon had claimed as his own, so Robb could at least breathe a little easier that she was fine and safe. The Umbers wouldn't hurt a woman and her tale had obviously moved them.

'And,' he thought to himself, 'she has Rocket and RIckon with her.'

As they had been moved to the farm Rocket had appeared briefly in the distance, giving them a mocking wave before he'd headed towards the house. While Drax had muttered about Rocket abandoning them like a coward Robb knew the raccoon was actually going to make sure Roslin was safe and for that he was eternally grateful. As for Rickon he'd been selected for questioning and though Robb was worried for his brother Yondu had assured him that Rickon could manage on his own just fine and he trusted Roslin to keep him safe.

Now they just needed to work on their escape.

It was never a question if they were going to wait for the Umbers to release them. Even with Roslin's claims that they had saved her they were still seen as the enemy. The Umbers had been dealing with the raids of the wildlings for thousands of years. There was a better chance at a Bracken and a Blackwood coming together to open a bakery than the Umbers allowing wildlings to happily walk away from their lands. At best Robb and them would be clapped in chains and made servants much as had been done with Osha. At worst they would have an ear cut off before they were dumped on the other side of the Wall.

And Robb was rather attached to his ears.

Trying to convince the Smalljon who he was… that would get his head chopped right off. The Heir of Last Hearth would be utterly offended that a 'wildling savage' was claiming to be Robb Stark and would see to restoring Robb's honor… by taking Robb's head.

"Groot's been gone a long time," Robb whispered as Drax finished telling the Wildlings that were closest to him about some adventure involving… a horse?

"He'll be back," Yondu assured him. "The twig has a good head on his shoulders. He'll help us out."

"Assuming he actually gets the key this time," Gamora complained. The plan was for Groot to sneak into the tent the Umber men had designated for the guards and get the key from there, bring it back to four of them, and unluck Gamora's shackles. She was the most stealthy of them all so it would be easy enough for her to gather their weapons and cause a distraction. They'd then release the other wildlings and use them to create enough confusion that Yondu and Drax could get Roslin while Robb secured boats for them to escape in.

Of course in order for that to happen Groot actually had to bring back the key.

"He'll get it."

"He brought back the Smalljon's undergarments last time," Gamora complained, crinkling her nose in disgust. "Used one."

"We weren't careful with how we described it," Robb said, taking pity on Groot. Rocket had explained that when Groot was in his twig form he basically had the mentality of a baby. "We told him this time that we needed a key. Explained it was a long hard thing that goes into holes. He'll get it now."

"I am Groot."

Robb turned and his brain stopped cold as he stared at Baby Groot…

…happily holding up a severed penis.

Gamora blinked.

Yondu's mouth opened into a tiny 'o'.

Drax looked at them and Groot several times before laughing. "Oh! It's because a vagina is a hole you stick things in!"

"We're going die here," Robb muttered.

"Groot," Yondu said very slowly. "We asked you to get us the key. The metal thing that lets us out of these chains."

The wood spirit blinked before reaching down and picking up the key, holding it out.

"…so he just brought us the penis to-" Gamora stopped herself. "Nope, I'm not going to think about this too hard. I'm just going to accept the penis happened and move on."

"That's what you said when you ran off with that silver bastard, right?" Yondu groused as Groot tossed the penis onto Drax's lap before he ambled over to Gamora, working the key to open the lock.

"Must you?" Gamora asked, shooting her father a dirty look.

"Oh I'm sorry! Should I be happy that you ran off with that prissy child and got me burned to death!"

"I left a note!" Gamora complained.

"For Brandon! The only way he'd have paid attention to that is if you'd drawn boobs on it!"

"I am Groot."

Yondu nodded. "That's right, not even well drawn ones! You could have drawn circles!"

"Can we focus on getting out of here, please?" Robb asked.

"Right," Gamora said, rubbing her wrists as the shackles came off. Luckily she was the farthest away from the other wildlings so none of them would notice that she'd snuck off; even if Robb and the rest of his family had told them their plan they knew the wildlings wouldn't have been able to keep themselves from speaking up and alerting the Umbers of what they were planning. "Groot, stay here and get the rest of them free. I'll go cause a distraction."

"I am Groot."

"…no, I will cut off more penises."

"It would be very distracting," Drax reasoned. "However, if any were as thick and girthy as my own it would take a while to cut through them. So Gamora is right, let us think of something else."

"What are you planning?" Robb asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Gamora admitted. "Something big and attention getting. Completely distracting-"

A high pitch scream filled the air followed by the sounds of swords being drawn and men barking orders.

"You ARE good!" Drax proclaimed. "That was much quicker than I expected."

"What the fuck is gonna on?" Yondu said, shuffling so he could stand up, Groot shrugging and working on freeing Robb from his shackles.

"Could it be more wildlings?" Robb asked as the other Free Folk began to murmur to themselves, something growing worried while others japed that the Umbers were suffering from some troubles and that was fine by him. "Others coming to rescue their friends?"

"I don't think so," Gamora said and Robb, without even looking at her, could tell that she was worried. Her voice was tense, words clipped. He glanced at Drax and his earlier pleasant mood was gone and in its place was the sternness of a warrior and a killer. Even Groot was shifting as he unlocked Robb's shackles and hurried over to Drax. "Something is very wrong."

The screams had turned to grunts and yells but the pain-filled cries still pierced the air at times, cutting through the roars of the battle that was occurring just beyond the pen. Just as Robb was about ready to try and sneak around try and figure out what was happening a squeal was heard and his eyes went wide at the sight of an Umber man FLYING over the farm house, arms and legs flailing wildly… right before he hit the ground with a sickening crack. His body bounced once before coming to a stop, twisted and mangled so that it was clear that there was no way he could be alive. No one could survive a fall like that.

Which only made the sight of the man twitching and shaking as his limbs waved about like the legs of an overturned beetle all the more horrifying.

"Fuck!" Yondu roared, leaning down so Groot could undo his shackles. "Hurry Twig, hurry!"

"What… what is going on?" Robb asked as the widlings that were also imprisoned with them began to scream and cry out in fright. The Umber man was trying to push himself up and Robb stared in growing horror as his head came up… which half his face slopping off thanks to the impact, leaving only broken teeth and a twitching jaw.

"Others," Gamora whispered. "It's the Others."

"Drax!" Yondu shouted. "Rip the stakes out of the ground! We don't have time to unchain them! IT will give them a fighting chance!" The green warrior nodded and set to work, huffing and bellowing as he worked to rip the stakes that were holding the wildlings in place from the ground. "Gamora, get weapons! Any weapons!"

"Can you whistle for your arrow?" she asked.

He tried only to shake his head. "They must have it out of range. It can't hear me! Robb!" He turned to Robb who was staring at the corpse of the Umber man that managed to finally get to his feet, taking a shambling step forward only to nearly pitch back onto the ground thanks to a broken leg. But where a living man would have screamed in pain the corpse merely tried again, causing the wildlings in the pen to began kicking and crying out in terror. "ROBB!" Yondu shouted, grabbing him and giving him a shake. "We need ta fight, boy! Get anything you can, any weapon!"

"Right… right." He looked about wildly, barely noticing Gamora running off to try and find their own person weapons, his eyes finally spotting a hoe lying on the ground. It was rusted to hell but the wood shaft was strong, made to survive the tough northern winters. "Yondu!" He called out, throwing the hoe to his grandfather before selecting what had once been a shovel for himself; the shovel part itself had been eaten away by the elements so that it looked more like a spear than a tool.

The corpse let out a snarl from the dripping ruin that had once been its mouth and Robb decided that a spear might be the best thing at the moment.

"Defend the wildlings till Drax gets 'em loose!" Yondu declared as he rushed forward, swinging the hoe at the corpse's head and knocking off a chunk of its skull. All that did was cause the body to turn towards him but Yondu merely grinned. "Oh, you won't be getting a lot of dances with that smile!" he declared before swung the hoe again, this time at its bad leg. There was a crack and the Umber man fell over as the leg finally ripped away, stringy flesh tearing like well cooked pork of the bone. In the back of his mind Robb couldn't help but notice that there was little blood… it was as if the corpse had been dead for years rather than seconds. Seeing it fall Yondu kicked at its head before leaping back. "You have to take'em apart! Our knifes as sun-kissed so they can kill them with a single stick but otherwise you leave a piece too intact-"

Robb watched as the leg that Yondu had snapped off twitch.

"-it just keeps moving!" he finished. "Fucking wights!"

Robb nodded and moved to keep an eye on the farm house. 'Roslin is in there,' he thought and for a moment he considered rushing there, to make sure she was alright. But within moments he banished that idea from his head. 'If she stays hidden that is the safest place for her. If I go I risk the wildlings dying and then we have more of these bastards!' He hated it but he knew that was the right decision.

"What do we do?" one of the wildlings asked, tugging at the chains that still held him. The three other men that were secured to the pole with him were all shuffling and moving about, each wanting to run but unable to decide on a direction.

"If ya can fight ya fight!" Yondu called out. "But if you're gonna get in the way then get the fuck out of here!"

"I am Groot!" Groot declared, leaping onto Drax's shoulder and wiggling the key.

"Yes, that will be more helpful than a penis in this situation," Drax informed him helpfully. The wildlings, realizing that even if they did run there was little hope of them surviving while chained together, nervously looked about before lining up to let Drax and Groot free them. The fact that one was a large green and red man and the other was a talking tree didn't concern them in the slightest.

"Die already ya bastard!" Yondu roared, hacking at the wight.

The fact that the Great Enemy was here might have had something to do with their focus.

Something came sprinting from the back of the old farm house at Robb tensed only to start when he realized it was Rickon. His shirt was off, his skin slick with something golden that Robb couldn't quite place, and his wrists were tied behind his back. His brother ran towards him with wide eyes, trying to stretch out his legs as far as he could. The reason for his hurried gait was quickly revealed when four wights came rushing after him, snarling and snapping at his heels like hunting dogs. In fact that was probably a very apt description for the wights, as they did not behave like men at all. The Umber Man that had risen had at least tried to get to his feet and had swung at Yondu like a warrior, even one that was deranged. But the wights chasing after Rickon looked more like the monkey men Old Nan had described in her tales. They squatted close to the ground, using their hands to claw at the cold earth just as much as they used their feet. They hadn't been Umber men in life, instead bearing leather armor that was oddly familiar to Robb, and the corpses had clearly been dead for far longer too. Their flesh was a grayish black, their noses and ears having long fallen away. Lips had rotten off as well, so that their teeth were forever showing, and their blazing blue eyes were as cold as the stars on a cloudless night. The sounds that came out of their throats shouldn't have been possible with a human's voice to make but somehow they came bursting out of their mouths, making Robb shiver.

"A little help!" Rickon roared as he hurried towards them and Robb snapped into action, spearing one wight while Drax moved to pound the second and Yondu attacked the third. The final one slipped past them but quickly Robb found himself unable to focus on it as he was dealing with his opponent. The shovel spear had gone through the flesh of the wight like a finger through a rotten apple, allowing dried up organs to flop out but the wight merely snarled and focused on him, nearly knocking Robb off his feet as it jerked the handle of his weapon from his hands simply by twisting its body. He leapt back only for the wight to rush him, forcing Robb to drop to his knees to avoid a swing of its hand and fingers that now ended in sharp bone points.

Reaching up Robb grabbed at the shaft of the shovel and yanked it hard, causing the wight to spin about before tumbling back.

'Kill it,' a voice whispered in his head. It was the long memories of the First Men, from before the Starks had been THE Starks. The voice that had allowed men to survive during the savage times when honor wasn't even a word let alone a concept. 'Kill it.' He scrambled about, finally finding a stone, solid and hefty, and grabbed hold of it before straddling the wight, using his knees to pin its arms down so it couldn't wiggle away.

He looked at the gray face and he knew he should be thinking many things. He should have pitied it, for it had once been a man and hadn't asked to be a monster. This creature… once it had had family. Friends. Hopes and dreams. He had lusted after women and laughed with his friends and run to his mother when he was frightened. Only now he was the nightmare that terrorized the innocent.

He should have thought about all that.

'Kill it,' he thought as he brought the stone down with all the rage and hate of a thousand generations of men who had worshiped the Old Gods and known that Winter is Coming. 'Kill it.'

A sword suddenly plunged itself into the mutilated remains of the wight and the body went still, truly a corpse once again. He glanced up and saw Gamora, who passed him his sword and gave him a nod.

"Good job," she said, "now let's see how you do with an actual weapon."

Robb pushed himself off the corpse and nodded, attaching the sword and its scabbard to his crude leather belt.

"Why were ya runnin' like that, boy?" Yondu growled at Rickon as Drax cut the ropes from his wrists and Gamora tossed him his own sword handles; the blades instantly extended, crackling with fire. "We didn't spend all that time trainin' ya ta have ya run in the opposite direction of the wights. Even with yar hands tied behind yar back ya should be takin' 'em out!"

"Unless there are Others attacking," Gamora reminded Yondu.

"It isn't the Others," Rickon said, shooting a side glance at Gamora.

"See?" Yondu said, waving at Rickon.

"This is something else. Something different."

"Something different?" Robb repeated.

"Yeah," Rickon said, rolling his shoulders. "They were asking me questions, trying to get information out of me I didn't have. All of us were getting annoyed; them, me, even the birds if they were paying attention. Suddenly we're under attack and I thought it was just wights… till-" He stopped as another horde of wights came around the building… along with someone else. "Oh fuck, it's her."

The figure walking towards them, at the rear of the mob of snarling corpses, had the shape of a woman. A bit on the short side but with the curves barely contained by her thin black leathers that would make most men ignore that. But what couldn't be ignored were her features. Her skin was a deep blue; not frostbit and numb but a dark blue like the depths of the pond in the Godswood back at Winterfell. A thick stripe of pale purple ran right down the center of her face, splitting her features into thirds. Scars that were far too neat and straight ran along the top of her bald skull. Her eyes were utterly black so that it seemed like they took any light that was shined at them and sucked it in, never allowing it to escape. Embedded into her flesh were bits of metal, a section running along her left eye then past her temple; another plate was fused to the top of her skull.

But most startling was her expression: there was none.

No anger. No rage. No glee or malicious intent.

She walked as if she didn't actually comprehend what was going on. It reminded Robb of the little wooden soldiers he'd played with as a child, with their carved faces that were simply there so one knew which way to turn them.

'The wights are showing more emotion than her,' Robb thought as the blue figure pulled out a pair of daggers made of pure ice.

"That's a thrall," Gamora said.

"Not like any thrall I've seen," Yondu said.

The thrall merely looked at them before suddenly launching herself into the air, landing in front of Gamora and head butting her before moving to attack. Yondu cried out something and then the horde was on them.

Robb only was able to see bits and pieces of the fight, as he was too consumed with defending himself. Yondu was trying to use his arrow to take out wights but he needed to be able to focus and it was hard to do so when corpses were clawing and biting at his person so he was forced to simply use a dagger to slash at them. Drax was leaping about, cackling and bellowing like the demented fool he was, at times grabbing wights and tossing them into the air just to stab them as they fell. Robb rolled out of the way of one wight and caught a glimpse of Gamora engaging with the thrall in a heated duel, the blue-skinned woman never reacting as she tried to slit his aunt's throat. Other wildlings were working to help, grabbing farm tools to defend themselves. Some were able to beat back the demons. Others fell and joined their ranks.

As for Robb he was just trying to hack as many wights as he could into pieces.

A delightful discovery was the fact that his sword, taken from the Iron Born that had attacked Winterfel and sparked like a lightning bolt given form, seemed to work just like the Children's weapons in stopping the wights with a single kiss of its edge. The crackle of lightning danced along its surface and as he swung at the wights, making them twitch before the fell over dead once again, the blue light in their eyes fading away to nothingness. He didn't know why the Iron Born sword was working but at the moment he was grateful it was.

That should have made the fight easy for him but the sheer number of corpses the thrall had brought with her was evening the odds and, at times, made it feel like every body Robb dealt with was merely a drop in the ocean. Worse was the fact that as the wights fell they choked up the battlefield, forcing them to push forward closer to the house. It was only that they were ignoring the structure that made Robb breathe a bit easier though he kept up the mental plea for Roslin to just keep hiding in there. He didn't need her coming out and making herself a target for the undead.

They fought around the cabin house and through the tents that littered the land and Robb grimaced at the clear signs of battle. Ripped tents and sleeping rolls, splashes of blood, discarded food and weapons… but no bodies. That was the most off-putting thing; not a single corpse could be found that he and the living hadn't created.

Because another thrall was commanding them to rise.

He only caught a glimpse of the figure, a man in black with blue skin and ebony markings on his face, then he spotted a small cluster of Umber men that were trying to fight off the horde and Robb raced forward, swinging his sword and hacking into the wights from behind, creating a path like a woodsman moving through the underbrush. He was careful to check his swings when he got close to the Umber warriors, so they weren't victims of his attacks, but they saw what he was doing and shifted so he might join them in the circle. The opening closed and Robb was surrounded but his blade made sure that the wights didn't get too close to him or the living.

"Are you all right, Smalljon?" he called out, thankful that the heir to Last Hearth was still alive.

"I'm… Prince Robb?" Smalljon blinked. "When did… when did you get here?"

Robb stabbed at a wight that came charging from the mob. "I've always been here… you captured me at the wildling camp."

"I… what?"

"It's a long story!" Robb complained. "I'll tell it later!"

But the Smalljon suddenly grabbed him, turning him around and giving him a shake. "The woman… the one that said you saved her…?"

"Roslin," he admitted.

"My Prince… he took her."

Every nerve in his body suddenly went berserk.

"What?" he managed to say, his sword nearly falling from his hands.

"That… whatever the fuck that thing is!" the Smalljon said, pointing to the thrall standing on the shoreline. "I was taking her for a walk when he came… he grabbed her and my men, loaded them into boats… he has Lady Roslin!"

Robb twisted around and with a roar began to savagely attack the wights.

"What the hell, boy?" Yondu cried out, suddenly at his side, but Robb didn't stop for a second. A fury was on him, merged with desperation, and he hacked and slashed his way through the horde of the undead, focus solely on the thrall that was standing on the shoreline.

"They took Roslin!" he bit out, cleaving the head off of one wight.

Yondu set his jaw. "Then we get her back and make'em pay for that stupidity." He whistled and his arrow rushed forward, heading right for the male thrall…

…who caught it with ease a centimeter from his face and snapped it in half.

"Now that wasn't nice at all!" Yondu complained, pulling out a short sword and joining Robb in trying to cut through the mass of corpses. "That was my favorite."

"Then it shouldn't have gotten so close to me!" the thrall declared with a sinister smirk, holding his hands out in the universal sign of 'what are ya gonna do?'. "Things tend to end up broken when they are around me and then I have to try and fix them as best as I can."

There was a crash and Robb twisted his head in time to see Gamora being slammed through the side of the farmhouse, wood shattering as the structure collapsed as the female thrall drove her violently through the wall. Gamora finally broke the hold and rolled away, running the back of her hand over her mouth before getting back in a fighting position.

"Just look at my dear niece," the male thrall said, turning and staring with twisted admiration for the female that was preparing to go at Gamora again. "When I found poor Asha she was licking her wounds and fleeing from the North in disgrace." He shook his head in mock sympathy. "You drove her and her Iron Born back and ruined all her hopes for revenge."

Robb's brow furrowed before it dawned on him that the female thrall was… or at least had been once… Asha Greyjoy, Theon's brother and the Ironborn captain who'd led the assault on Winterfell.

"When a blacksmith finds that someone has crafted a poorly made sword they are forced to destroy it so they might try and make something new, something they can salvage from the wreckage. I did the same with my sweet niece. Pulled her apart and pieced her back together. She screamed so merrily but…" he slowly turned his attention back to Robb, "I think the end results speak to how well I can rebuild." He leered at him, eyes dancing in delight. "I wonder what I could do with you."

"I've already seen how you 'fix' things," Robb called out, gesturing at the corpses. "They didn't last that long, did they? Not truly the grand creations you were hoping for."

"These aren't mine," the thrall declared. "Merely gifts from my masters for this mission."

"Where are my men, you fucker!" Smalljon roared from behind Robb.

"Here… and there… and there…" the thrall looked at the piles of bodies. "You certainly did such a lovely job hacking apart your friends. I dare say you've wanted to do that for a while, haven't you?" He leaned in a bit and practically purred, "I think you enjoyed finally getting an excuse to slice into their bellies and lop of their heads. You're welcome."

"Enough of yar games, thrall," Yondu said. The battle field had grown quiet, the shambling corpses of the thrall's forces slowly pulling back. Asha Greyjoy silently backed away from Gamora who tensed, ready to leap into battle once more if the mutilated woman rushed her again. "Where are the living you took? Not like the Others to take hostages!"

"Oh, it truly isn't. This is all my doing. My schemes." The male thrall smirked, walking slowly over to Asha, trailing his fingers along her should before sticking out his tongue and licked a spot of blood off her bald head. There was the slightest tremor in the woman's form, the only sign that she was still human and not a puppet, but otherwise remained still. Water lapped at the shoreline as the male thrall took several steps back towards a waiting rowboat. "Thanos… he thinks so small. I appreciate what he is trying to do but honestly… there is so much more he could be doing."

"We'll stop you," Robb threatened but the thrall merely laughed at that.

"We'll stop you!" He parroted, his tone mocking. "We'll stop you!" He let out a laugh. "Do you have any idea how many foolish little heroes have screamed that at me just before I put my blade through their heart? And that was before all of this!" The dark hole that was his left eye socket exploded with purple light that made Robb shield his eyes and the male thrall laughed once again, leaping into the waiting boat that still sat nearby, Asha moving to join him. "I am Euron Greyjoy, boy! You do not get to stand there and cast blame and sin my way! I am the one that shall accuse you! You… and the entire North!" He smirked. "And the sentence… is death."

There was another pulse of energy and suddenly the horde of wights were racing towards them again, only now in an absolute frenzy. They thrashed and screamed, tearing with teeth and claws at the collection of Northsmen, Wildlings, and Children of the Forest. Robb hacked away, trying to fight his way through the crush of bodies both living and dead, but the mad assault by the wights and the valor of the living created a great collision from which he was finding it hard to escape.

Looking over the heads of the undead he could see Euron still standing in the boat, his hands held wide as he reveled in the madness he had left on the shoreline. In the distance he saw a great Ironborn ship and he knew in an instance that Roslin was there. She was on that ship and he had to get to her.

Letting out a roar Robb drove forward, sword held like a spear, and barreled his way through the wights. They fell under his assault and suddenly he popped free of the mass of bodies. He was startled and when he looked at Euron he found the thrall seemed nearly as surprised as Robb had been.

'Kill it.'

He let out a bellow and charged right at the thrall, who stared at him in surprise before a truly manic grin formed on his lips.

"Oh… this is going to be GOOD!" he cried out, drawing his sword and leaping from the boat, swinging hard as Robb brought up his blade. The two clashed together and locked, causing Euron to once more blink in surprise. "You have something… something that can match the powers of the Great Other."

"I'm full of surprises," Robb snarled and he twisted his body, letting his blade slide along Euron's before he went for a swing at his throat.

The two of them truly began to duel, the rest of the world falling away as they crossed swords. He wondered briefly what Ser Rodrik would think, knowing that all those hours in the training yard had built to Robb battling with a traitor to mankind, a monster who bowed to the Others, but he dismissed the thought quickly, needing for focus on the battle. Swords clanged and clashed as they moved about the wet sandy shoreline. They moved from the horde that continued to battle, the sounds fading as all of Robb's existence became focused solely on defeating the bastard and getting his wife back.

Euron moved to punch him with a free hand but Robb saw the blow coming and moved with it, using the momentum to slide along Euron and slash at his leather armor, doing no real damage but at least proving that he was a wolf with teeth. But the victory was short as in the next moment Euron drove the pommel of his sword into Robb's shoulder and threw the heavy furs of his wildling disguise Robb felt the biting cold of the weapon seep into his flesh. It made his muscles ache and slow and it took all his effort not to drop his sword.

"That is the thing about the cold," Euron finally said idly, annoying Robb that he could talk without even a hint of panting or exhaustion. They'd been battling straight for nearly 5 minutes straight. Robb's lungs burned and he tasted acid and copper on his tongue. His fingers were in agony from having been locked around the hilt of his sword and frozen blood clung to his skin where Euron had gotten lucky. "It slows you down. It makes you grow numb. Can't even think. Its why so many say it is the worst and best death. You feel it for so long, hurting you and biting you. But in the end? You don't even notice it. You just stop and lie down and you never open your eyes again. The cold MAKES you accept it killing you." His hand suddenly lashed out and grabbed Robb by the throat, lifting him off his feet. "Will you accept me?"

Robb swung his blade and caught Euron in the side, finally managing to get through his armor and cut him.

"Hmmm," the thrall said in interest, dropping Robb and touching the wound, rubbing his fingers in the pale blood that dripped from the gash. "You have fire in you, wildling." And then he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh… you are the one I've been seeking!"

And then he was on Robb against, attacking him ten times faster he had before and Robb knew in an instant that Euron had been testing him. Seeing how far he would go. He'd never stood a chance of winning.

"Pretty boy!"

Robb turned… and stared in utter confusion at the sight of Rocket and Roslin in one of the long boats. The former's fur was caked in blood and he was holding a sword too big for his body but he was alive. And his wife… she was rowing them back to shore with a determined gleam in her eye.

"Roslin," he whispered… just before Euron twisted him around and slammed his fist into Robb's stomach.

"Now now… I do hate being ignored," Euron said as Robb fell to his knees, his sword falling from his grasp. "Niece… load him up. But be gentle… he needs to be whole for my work."

Robb felt cool hands grab him and yank him towards the boat. He wanted to struggle but he couldn't as he was far too busy gasping for air, trying to get his body to work properly again.

"Don't fight."

He started at that.

"You're his now," Asha Greyjoy murmured, "fighting will only make it worse." She pulled him into the boat, Robb staring at the sky, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was Euron sending out a burst of purple energy.