Alright, here's the second chapter. Things get more serious in this one, but it's not all bad. Not yet anyways. Let me know what you think.
The best part of Raya's night is that Ramsay is not seated at the head table. He's seated towards the back of the hall among her father's men, near to where Lord Stark's own bastard is sitting. She would have preferred having Jon Snow at the table if the choice had been hers, but it's not up to her. At the Dreadford, Ramsay had sat at the table with her and her father during their meals. She had always loathed taking meals in their own hall. Ramsay couldn't bring himself to stop talking, and her father was content saying no more than five words to her on a good day. So when she's forced to partake in conversation at the table, she finds herself rather overwhelmed.
She's seated between Robb and his younger sister Sansa, her father seated towards the head of the table near Lord Stark. Sansa is asking her twenty questions at a time, the other three Stark children avidly listening as she attempts to answer all the questions.
"Needlework is one of my most favorite things to do. Septa Mordane says I'm a natural at it. Are you any good at needlework?"
"I've never tried before." She pretends not to see the shocked look on the fiery-haired Stark's face. "My father never thought it was worth my time to learn, so it never gave me a chance."
"What were you doing instead?" Arya inquires.
"Hunting, shooting crossbows, learning to use a sword."
"You can fight with a sword?" She feels a smile tug on her lips at the youngest Stark girl's excitement.
"Well, I'm not sure about fighting. But if I had to defend myself I'm sure I'd be alright." She ignores the icy glare piercing the side of her head as she turns to the oldest Stark girl again. "You will have to teach me to do needlework. I am sure you are superb at it."
Robb watches as his sister nearly beams with happiness at his betrothed's words. She was doing well, keeping up with their conversation. His siblings are excited to have someone new amongst them, and it worried him that they might be overwhelming. He thought he might have to intervene, but she seems to do alright on her own.
More than once Robb had caught Lord Bolton eyeing his daughter during dinner. No doubt he wants to ensure she makes a good impression, which she has. His siblings are already enamoured and he can tell his mother approves of her. But something about the way he stares at her unnerves him. As nervous as he is for their wedding, he'll be glad once the Lord of the Dreadfort has gone. Something about his emotionless composure makes Robb uneasy. He's like a wild dog. You never know what his next move is going to be, or when he might turn and bite you.
Raya leaves the hall not long after his siblings are sent to bed. She had claimed weariness from their travels, and Robb can believe it. She had looked exhausted before dinner had even started. His father excuses her, Robb offering to walk her back to her room. She accepts, taking his arm again. Even he can feel Lord Bolton's eyes following them out of the hall this time. Raya takes a deep breath as soon as they're outside, her tense composure relaxing slightly. He says nothing, instead letting her make the conversation if she wishes to.
She's silent until they approach her door, their steps slowing. "Thank you for walking me back, Robb. I'm afraid I would have gotten lost if I had tried alone."
He nods. "It was my pleasure. I hope my siblings weren't too exhausting tonight."
He sees a ghost of a smile form on her lips. "They were wonderful. They're all so different. Happy."
"Annoying would be the word I would use."
"They're your siblings. They're supposed to seem annoying to you. But they really are wonderful. I think I will enjoy your family greatly."
Robb smiles at her. "Good. I'm glad of that. I'll leave you to get some rest. No doubt Mother will want to start planning the wedding tomorrow."
She nods. "I would expect so. Goodnight, Robb. Thank you for being so kind."
He smiles at her, kissing her hand again. "Goodnight, Raya."
He sees her cheeks flush pink for a moment before she quickly turns, entering her room. He waits until the door latches before turning on his heel to go back to the hall. Raya Bolton is a mystery to him still, but at least she is not like her father. For that he is glad.
Raya is taking the pins out of her hair when her father arrives. She knows his knock anywhere, calling for him to enter as she removes the last pin from her hair. He closes the door behind him, making her stomach twist. "Come to wish me goodnight, Father?"
He's silent for a moment and she turns to face him. "You've not unpacked?"
She shrugs. "What's the point. They will move everything to my husband's room in a month as it is."
She immediately regrets her choice of words as soon as they leave her lips. The worst thing about her father is he never shows his rage. She'd only ever seen it once, but every other time he'd been stone faced and cold as the Northern air. Her head snaps to the side as his hand connects with her face. She catches herself on the vanity, blood pooling in her mouth. She's given no time to recover before she's yanked back up, her arm twisted painfully behind her back. She bites back a cry of pain, knowing it will only give him what he wants. She can feel his breath on her ear as he looms behind her, his grip on her wrist like a steel vice.
"Don't you pull that attitude with me. If you mess this up, I will drag you back to the Dreadfort behind my horse and lock you in the darkest cell I can find where you will never see the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Father."
He holds her there for a moment before pushing her away from him. Her knees hit the stone floor under her painfully and she bites her lip until it bleeds to keep silent. She stays where she is until he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. He makes his way back down to his own rooms, missing the figure standing back in the shadows on the staircase.
"I don't like him." Jon says as he prepares himself to spar his half-brother again.
"He's the Lord of a place called the Dreadfort whose sigil is a flayed man on a cross. You're not supposed to like him." Theon says, leaning on his sword.
"That's not what I mean." He steps closer to Robb and Theon. "I heard something last night."
Both boys step closer, lowering their voices. "What do you mean?" Robb asks curiously.
"I was coming down from telling Arya goodnight. I was almost to her door when I heard the commotion. I couldn't hear well enough to be sure, but I think he hit her."
"Don't be ridiculous. He wouldn't dare lay a hand on the future Lady of Winterfell." Robb says.
"You saw how she acted this morning. She hid her face every chance she could."
Jon can see Robb thinking about it. Raya had been closed off this morning. More quiet than she had been the night before. She had flinched when Lady Stark had taken her hand to lead her off after they had finished eating. No one else had seemed to notice, but Jon had.
Robb's brow furrows in anger, his jaw clenching. "I'll cut off his hands for it."
Robb turns to walk away, but Theon stops him. "Wait. Think about this. We have no proof. Getting involved could make things so much worse for her."
"Theon's right." Jon says. He hates to admit it, but Lord Stark's ward is using his head for once. "In a month you'll be married. She'll be in your care, and your father's. He won't be able to touch her again."
Robb's tense shoulders relax as the anger diffuses. Acting rashly won't help this situation. Perhaps Jon was wrong, and he had gone making false accusations. That kind of action could have lead to Lord Bolton breaking off the betrothal and regardless of if Jon was right or not, it could have made the situation for Raya worse. Theon was right. They had no proof other than what they could assume about Raya's behavior. Perhaps something else had happened. Perhaps she had finally come to realize what her arrival here had meant, and she was nervous for what would transpire in a month's time. Robb doesn't like Lord Bolton, and he's not alone in that opinion. Many of the lords in the North share a dislike for House Bolton. But he will marry Raya Bolton even if it is a loveless marriage for her sake to keep her away from her father.
Raya Bolton is as hard to read as her father. She has shown more emotion than him in the day she'd been here, but he can tell she's built a fortified reserve around herself. He doesn't blame her, being forced into a marriage with a man she's known for less than a day. He likes to think they could have a happy marriage at least. She had been so impressed by his siblings and had seemed relaxed around him. Or at least more so than she did around her father. Perhaps they could find at least happiness together.
Robb barely sees his betrothed in the next two weeks. His mother had been keeping her busy arranging the wedding and no doubt teaching her to care for the affairs of the house. They had learned Raya had no Septa growing up as the Dreadfort's last Septa had died not long after she was born. Her mother had taught her until her death, and then it had fallen to her father and the Captain of the Guard. She was smart though, and a quick learner according to Sansa. She had taken to needlework quickly and was even better than Arya already. Arya took no offense to that though, overjoyed to have someone to spar with.
Ramsay Bolton had taken to attending training with the other boys. Robb had known immediately both Raya and Lord Bolton disliked the bastard. Robb was quick to figure out why. Like Theon, Ramsay had an incessant need to talk, especially about women. They had both shared their secrets about bed warmers and brothels. The only time Ramsay didn't talk was when he was sparring. It had surprised Robb, who was confident in his abilities with a sword to find the strength the bastard had behind his blows. Robb has to work to keep up with him and avoid getting bruises from the hard blows.
The thing that Robb dislikes most about Ramsay is his eyes. He realizes all three of the Bolton's share the same deep-set eyes, but where Raya and her father have cold eyes, Ramsay's are alight with a deep madness. It shines through the most when he's sparring, especially so when he's winning. Ramsay unnerves Robb as much as Lord Bolton does. He will be glad when the next two weeks are up and the Boltons leave Winterfell.
Raya finally gets a break at the start of her third week in Winterfell. Lady Stark had kept her busy planning the wedding and making sure everything is perfect. She had even enlisted Sansa's help with her wedding gown. The girl was fantastic with needlework and she at least wanted her dress to be special. She hadn't seen Robb in those two weeks outside of dinner and when she was asked to break her fast with the Stark family. He has been nothing but kind to her when he's seen her, and she can at least hope for a peaceful marriage. Perhaps she could even grow to find happiness with him. But love, she knows, is out of the question.
Arya is the one who steals her away during her break from the wedding planning. The younger girl had been dying to have time to train with Raya. Unfortunately, their only option that day was archery. Outside of a crossbow, Raya's skills are limited. She'd tried to learn before, but she could never remember every precise detail of the stance needed to be successful.
"You can't be any worse than Bran." Arya says as they grab their bows. "He can barely get his arm back far enough."
"Well, he is young and still learning. Archery takes a certain grace few people have." She knocks an arrow, drawing it back before letting it go. She hits the edge of the target, slightly to the left. "I am not one of those people."
Arya lets an arrow loose, hitting the target dead center. "You just need to practice, that's all."
Raya smiles. "Then we must do this a lot together, then."
They shoot a few arrows together, Raya always drifting left of the target.
"You're standing wrong." Raya turns when she hears Robb's voice. He's leaning against a post, a hint of a smile on his face. He steps forward, coming over to her. "Let me help you." He steps up behind her and her stomach immediately tightens into a knot. "Your feet are too close to start. Move your front foot forward slightly." She does as he says, his hands falling to her waist to adjust her hips. "Draw the arrow." She pulls the string back, Robb's hands leave her waist, turning her elbow slightly, making sure her grip is right, the other hand lowering her back arm slightly.
She can feel his breath on the back of her neck. She doesn't feel the twisting in her stomach, the fear she'd always felt whenever a man stands close behind her. There's a different kind of fluttering in her stomach with Robb behind her. His hands fall back to her waist as he finishes adjusting her and he leans in closer to her ear.
"Now let go."
The arrow is flying before she realizes she's let go. It's just off the center of the target, but at least she hit the black spot designating the bulls-eye. She turns slightly to face Robb, smiling up at him as Arya cheers.
"You are a fast learner." He says, smiling down at her.
"Well, I have a good teacher."
He smirks down at her. "Then as your teacher, my next order is for you to do it again."
She smiles, grabbing another arrow, repeating the stance he'd corrected for her. He stays close behind her, correcting minor flaws as she goes. His touch is gentle as it had been the first day they'd met. It's strange to her, but she can't deny that it sends shivers running through her. It's a nice change to what she's used to. Perhaps being married to him would not be as bad as she imagined.