Author's Note: Woohoo, another fast chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this story – special thanks to Maddie Rose for reading through it, and to Dannylionthe1st and pawelp for answering all my questions!

This chapter is both rated M and an emotional roller coaster, so buckle your seats belts ladies and gentlemen.

Chapter 13: Assumptions and Regret

Winterfell was more crowded than Maliya had ever seen it, even more so than when King Robert had come to visit. There were strangers everywhere she went; littering the hallways, out in the training yards, the ringing of steel echoing across the grounds, and the constant chorus of noises coming from the stables. Due to the fact that there were now so many people around, Maliya felt that it was too risky to sneak down to the crypts for a few days.

While part of her was annoyed by the fact, she was being kept too busy to think on it much. She was meeting each of the bannermen, their sons and their knights, making sure that their rooms were ready and they had everything they needed. The Karstarks were the last to arrive, but Maliya had already met the Glovers, the Mormonts, the Boltons, the Hornwoods, the Cerwyns, the Tallharts and of course, the Umbers.

They hosted with each of the Lords of the North and their men in turn, in feast after feast, Maliya seated on Robb's one side and Bran on the other. Robb had seemed to transform in the short time since his bannermen had been here, but it was a necessary change that Maliya understood completely. These men might have answered his call, but it came with strings, things that they requested and asked for in return for their loyalty. As the acting Lord of Winterfell, Robb had to put on his "lord" face, his eyes cold and forbidding as he dealt with these men in a way that bent them to his will without offending them.

The only time she saw Robb alone anymore was when he came stumbling to bed late at night, exhausted and drained, with only enough energy to pull her close before he immediately drifted off to sleep. She missed him, which she knew was both ridiculous since he was right there in front of her and selfish since he was going through all this to protect and save his family.

Everything Robb had been planning, all the negotiations that he had been through had been leading up to this one last feast, the one where he hosted each of the Lords of the North in the Great Hall. Soon, they would be marching South.

Maliya, sitting on Robb's right, watched the men loudly interact around her, the smell of wine and sweat thick in the air. Bran sat across from her, quietly picking at his food, Theon on his other side. She watched Bran in concern, eyeing the men around him darkly. She heard the terrible things that they were saying about his disability and she had already stepped in more than once on his behalf.

"For thirteen years, I've been making corpses from men, boy!" Maliya looked down at the other end of the table, where Lord Umber was talking loudly, his voice carrying through the Great Hall and catching the attention of the other men. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robb's hand clench into a fist on his thigh and knew that he hated to be called 'boy' when he was the Lord in charge of all these other men. "I'm the man you want leading the Vanguard!"

Robb's jaw flexed as he said in an even voice, "Galbert Glover will lead the Van."

Maliya was taken aback by the fury that shone in the Greatjon's eyes and she tried to hide her confusion. This was the man who had made her genuinely laugh on her wedding night, who had invited them to his home for his own sons wedding. Was this change in attitude all because of pride? "The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover. I will lead the Van or I will take my men and march them home!"

Maliya's eyes widened as the men throughout the Great Hall hushed in response, all of them turned towards Robb to see what his reaction would be. Maliya held her breath, eyes flickering to Robb as the Greatjon openly challenged him and prayed that he would play this in a smart way. Robb put elbows on the table, his hands laced under his chin. His voice was calm but his eyes were hard as ice. "You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber," he began, his quiet voice easily heard throughout the rest of the hall. He stood, bracing himself against the table as he stared down at Lord Umber. "And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your Keep and hang you for an oathbreaker."

Maliya's hand twitched toward the dagger hidden under her skirt as the Greatjon's face twisted. Her entire body was tensed, willing and waiting to see if it was going to be necessary to use it in order to protect Robb. Grey Wind, who had been calmly lying between both her and Robb, tensed as well, his head lifting as he looked towards his master.

"Oathbreaker is it?!" The Greatjon roared, leaping to his feet so quickly that his chair fell crashing to the floor. "I'll not sit here taking insults from a boy so green he pisses grass!"

Both Maliya and Theon hurriedly stood in alarm as the Greatjon actually reached down to unsheath his sword, but before they could do anything, Grey Wind let out a vicious snarl as he sprang up onto the table, swiftly running across it and sinking his teeth into the Greatjon's sword hand, knocking the larger man flat on his back. She couldn't see what was happening, exactly, but his screams rang loudly in her ears.

Half a second later, Grey Wind came trotting back to Robb's side, and it wasn't until Maliya looked down that she realized he had dropped two of the Greatjon's fingers at his feet. "My Lord Father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege lord," Robb announced in that same calm voice as the bigger man struggled to his feet, his other hand holding the stumps where his fingers used to be, the blood flowing freely. "But doubtless the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me."

With a savage growl, the Greatjon kicked his chair across the room as he finally stood upright. "Your meat?" He snapped in a booming voice, pausing when he realized every other man was on his feet as well, his eyes flickering around the room. "…is bloody tough," he finished, gesturing to his hand.

Maliya watched incredulously as the Greatjon began to laugh, her wide eyes turning to Robb as he joined in a moment later, setting off the entire damn hall. The only other one not laughing was Bran, who was looking particularly confused. Maliya sat heavily, shaking her head as Bran looked to her as if to say, 'I have no idea.'

The tension within the Great Hall disappated with the laughter and all the men sat down again and resumed eating and drinking. Robb absentmindedly put a hand on Grey Wind's head as he lay down once more at his feet. "What?" Robb asked, frowning as he looked over to her.

"Nothing," Maliya responded softly shaking her head, a small smile on her face. She leaned closer to him, her arms on the table as the sounds of the men talking around them faded into the background. "Have you found time to speak to Rickon yet?"

Robb sighed, looking regretful. "I tried to, earlier in the day, but I fear he's avoiding me. I'm worried about him. We march South tomorrow, and he's acting so wild, so unlike himself."

"He's young, Robb, he doesn't understand," Maliya pointed out sympathetically. "If it helps, I can try and speak with him."

"That would help," Robb told her in relief, his eyes grateful. "There is so much planning still to do, so much that needs to get done."

"I understand," she smiled. "I'm happy to help. Listen, your father would be proud of you, Robb," she told him softly. "Look around at what you've managed to accomplish so far, you've brought all these men together to share a common goal, and you're going to lead them all. I know that I'm proud of you." She leaned closer to him, her eyes glittering. Her hand disappeared below the table, her fingers covertly dancing up his thigh, grinning as she coaxed a noticeable reaction from him, his blue eyes blazing. "Maybe I can show you just how proud I am," she breathed teasingly. "The feast seems to be dwindling down. Think you can spare a few minutes of your time?"

Robb's head tilted to the side, eyeing her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "I think I can. I've never looked forward to anything more, Princess."

Maliya waited impatiently in the empty storage room, peeking through the door and wondering what in the Seven Hells was taking her dear husband so long. She had left the feast, making up some excuse and leaving strict instructions for Robb to follow her a few minutes later, but it was taking longer than she thought it would.

"Finally," she muttered in relief, snagging his arm as he passed by the door and yanking him into the room. He made a startled noise, which was muffled as she hungrily captured his lips, her hands fisting in his shirt to pull him farther into the room, kicking the door shut and pushing him up against it forcefully. Robb groaned appreciately at her eagerness, one arm snaking around her lower back to pull her up against him, the other blindly fumbling with the laces at the back of her dress.

The intensity and tension between them flared to life at an absurd rate, driven higher by the fact that it seemed so long ago that they found time to be alone like this.

Her arms wound around his neck, moaning as his tongue met hers when he deepened the kiss. Robb responded enthusiastic to the noise, pushing off the door and blindly stumbling further into the room, spinning her so that she was pushed against the wall this time, her breath escaping her in a rush. His hands were everywhere, fisting in her hair, clutching her hips, cupping her breasts. Maliya's mind was spinning, her whole body alight, her breathing heavy.

"Fuck," Robb whispered huskily as he suddenly pulled away, his eyes closed as his forehead pressed against hers.

"What's wrong?" Maliya panted in concern, her hands still tangled in his hair as she struggled to focus.

"Nothing," he assured her, his blue eyes so dark they were almost black. "Just need a minute to get control again, otherwise I'm pretty sure I'll fuck you through this wall."

His words sent a shiver of lust dwn her spine. "Nyke Jaelan ao. Tolvie hen ao," she murmured, eyes searching his.

"You have no idea what that language coming from that pretty mouth of yours does to me," Robb told her in a deep voice, fingers still gripping her hips. "That's Valyrian is it not? What did you say?"

"I want you," she repeated, thumbs brushing either side of his neck. "All of you. The sweet man who took care of me on that first night, the playful man I secretly know you to be and the Lord of Winterfell that takes care of everyone around him. But I know that you've been holding back on me, I can feel it. I'm not some fragile girl, Robb, you can be rough with me. I want to know every side of you. Show me," she murmured, pressing her lips to the underside of her jaw before pulling back to search his face.

She could see the effect that her words had on him, the spark of intrigue and want in his eyes as he pictured taking her like she suggested, before he shook his head. "You are a princess, Maliya, you deserve better – "

"Everything is better with you," she interrupted insistently. An idea sparked in her mind and she leaned forward once more to whisper in his ear. "Ao issi ñuhon." She nearly grinned as she felt Robb release a shaky breath, his eyes closing again. "Sîr, Robb, kostilus."

She knew she had him when he practically growled low in his chest, losing control of his restraint as he pushed her against the wall again and kissed her, hard. His movements were almost feral as he savagely kissed his way down her throat, pulling at the front of her dress, pulling it down just far enough for her breasts to spring free to that he could devour them as well. She cried out in surprise when his teeth gently nipped her, her hips pushing forward as a white-hot heat shot through her.

Unable to take it anymore, feeling slightly desperate, her hands slid down his chest to hurriedly undo the laces of his breeches, even while his own hands frantically pulled up her skirts, exposing her dagger safely sheathed in it's holster. He paused, looking down at it. "Fuck," he muttered hoarsely, pulling her small clothes down and grabbing her thighs, lifting her against the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands had finally freed him and he froze once more, posied at her entrance, his eyes dark and glittering, his jaw clenched.

"Kostilus, Robb, please, please," she whimpered, the anticipation nearly killing her.

"Hold on, Princess," he breathed, before thrusting his hips forward, sliding into her easily and making them both moan. Robb gave her no time to adjust, even if she didn't need it. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his hips snapped forward, fast and hard, his movements frantic and his eyes wild. Maliya met him thrust for thrust, hardly able to breathe. She had never felt like this. All the passion, the desire, the affection. She felt as if she were going to break apart into a million pieces and spontaneously combust at the same time.

Robb's mouth crashed into hers once more as they both rapidly neared their inevitable end. He lifted her higher against the wall, reaching deeper inside her while one hand snaked between their bodies, his thumb getting to work and that was it. Her legs clamped into a vice around his waist, drawing him in as deep as he could go, her back arching and her teeth clenched to muffle the raspy whine that threatened to escape as she was thrust over the edge. Her eyes rolled back into her head as her body pulsed and twitched, but she was dimly aware of the death grip Robb had on her hip and thigh as he cried out hoarsely into her neck, his body shuddering under her hands.

They were both panting heavily as they floated down from their high. Maliya breathlessly laughed, her head leaning against the wall as she felt Robb's lips at her neck. "Gods. That was…"

"Incredible," Robb murmured, pulling back to look at her, brushing her damp hair from her face as she hummed her agreement.

"Sex against the wall, another first for us," Maliya grinned, noting for the first time that they had moved so quickly that neither of them were fully undressed, they had only removed the necessary pieces of clothing that were in their way. "And one that we're definitely going to have to keep in mind. You know, it's too bad that the tents we're going to be staying in don't have sturdy walls when we march South. Then we won't have to wait – "

"What?" Robb interrupted in confusion, pulling back with a frown. "What do you mean?"

Maliya rolled her eyes. "Walls are sturdy, Robb, they can hold us up, but tents aren't made like that, so we wouldn't be able to experience this again – "

"Not that," Robb interjected again impatiently. "The part where we march South."

Now it was Maliya's turn to frown. "I don't know where you've been, but you called the bannermen and now we're about to march off to war – "

"Maliya, you are not marching to war with us," he told her in a voice that suggested that should have been obvious.

Maliya's heart nearly stopped in her chest, her eyes widening as she repeated the words in her head to make sure she heard them correctly, before they narrowed dangerously. She pushed against him, forcing him to release his hold on her and allowing her to slide down the wall and stand on still shaky legs. She hurriedly fixed her clothing as Robb tucked himself back inside his breeches and laced them. She felt as if a cold bucket of water had been thrown over her as she was abruptly pulled from her pleasure filled haze. "Explain," she snarled dangerously.

He looked down at her incredulously. "I shouldn't have to!" He cried, throwing up his hands. "You are my wife, you are the Lady of Winterfell while my mother is away, and I need you here taking care of Winterfell and Bran and Rickon!"

"I am not going to let you leave me behind Robb!" She replied roughly, crossing her arms. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you are not," Robb retorted, further inciting her anger as his blue eyes flashed. "War is a place for men, Maliya, it's too dangerous for you to be out there – "

"I can protect myself!" Maliya interrupted, her voice unconsciously rising into a shout. "I am a better fighter than half your men, a better fighter than you! You can't leave me here just because I am a woman!"

"Fine!" He yelled, the original tension between them morphing into something dark and toxic. "Then did it occur to you that we've been having sex so many times over the past month that you may be carrying my child? I am not going to risk endangering both you and my child – "

He was interrupted as Maliya let out a scream of frustration, unable to believe that this was one of his reasons when she knew there was no chance that she was pregnant. "That's your excuse?" She snapped, her fists clenching. "A 'maybe?' A 'what if?' What happened to us being in this together, Robb? What happened to us being partners? I would hate to have to stay behind, not knowing where you were or whether you were alive or dead!"

"I am not going to risk losing you at all, and that's final!" Robb shouted, his voice echoing throughout the storage room. "In case you have forgotten, I am the Lord of Winterfell and you are not marching South with us."

Maliya's nostrils flared as she struggled to contain her temper and her incredibly strong urge to hit him. "And in case you have forgotten, I am a Princess of Dorne and technically my rank is higher than yours."

Robb stared at her for a long moment before his face went blank, his blue eyes hard as ice as he transformed into 'Lord Robb' before her eyes. "I am your husband, Princess." Robb's voice was as hard and restrained as the rest of him. Whereas her fury was a fire swirling around her, his was of ice, cold and immovable. Of fire and ice, she thought absently. A Targaryen and a Stark. "And as your husband, I am saying that you are to remain here with Bran and Rickon."

"Is that an order, husband?" She spat, nearly vibrating with the strength of her rage.

"Yes," he answered brusquely, straightening to his full height, looking imposing. "That is an order, wife."

Glaring at him, Maliya bit the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted blood as she struggled to gain control of herself. Finally she took a deep breath and blinked, smoothing out her expression to match his, hiding her anger, frustration and the small part of her that hated him in this moment. They were no longer Robb and Maliya standing there in that storage room. Instead they were Lord Robb and Princess Maliya and she was left wondering how things had suddenly changed so quickly.

Not wanting to say anything that she would regret and unable to stand the sight of him, Maliya inclined her head toward him. "As you wish, My Lord," she answered emotionlessly before calmly turning on her heel, closing the door behind her and leaving him alone in the storage room.

Maliya strode blindly down the corridors, not paying attention to where she was going. She couldn't ever remember feeling this angry in her entire life. Robb, someone she had come to care for and to trust, was leaving her in the cold and bitter north. He was abandoning her all because she was a woman, because she needed to stay behind to care for his little brothers. She loved Bran and Rickon, but given the choice, she would rather be at Robb's side, fighting to free his father. Doing something instead of freezing her arse up here.

She wanted to rage and scream at the unfairness of it all. She wanted to punch someone or something until her fists were bloody and her muscles were exhausted. She wanted to shake Robb, to force him to see her side of this argument and to make him change his mind.

She did none of these things, however. Instead, she found herself outside the chambers of the one person who wasn't at the feast right now, someone who she felt would make her feel better. She knocked on the closed door, leaning close. "Rickon? It's me, Maliya. Can I come in?"

A low growl answered her request, followed by Rickon's small voice. "No, Shaggydog, it's only Maliya! Down, Shaggy." The door opened and Maliya looked down to see Rickon's bright eyes peering up at her. "What do you want?" He asked in a petulant voice, pouting at her.

Alright, so apparently he wasn't happy with her either. She put her hands on her knees, bending down to his level. "I have come to beg your forgiveness, Rickon Stark," she told him in an honest, if slightly exaggeratory voice. "I have been terribly busy and I'm sorry that I haven't made time to see you lately."

Rickon contemplated her for another minute before opening the door further and letting her in. She closed the door behind him as he padded back to his bed, dressed in his night clothes. Shaggydog followed him, curling up at the foot of the bed, his eyes following Maliya as she crossed the room. She hesitated, unsure just how angry Rickon was with her, but she felt a great sense of relief as he patted the bed next to her expectantly.

Smiling at him, Maliya sat with her back against the headboard, feeling her anger drain out of her as he lifted her arm and curled against her side. "You know, you scared everyone when you disappeared the other day," Maliya murmured softly, rubbing his back. "Especially Robb. I was so frightened that it took me a long time to remember you like to hide in the crypts. And then when Shaggydog attacked those guards…"

"I know, he shouldn't have done that. But I just didn't want Robb to go! Mother and Father have already left and now Robb is too, and none of them are ever going to come home!"

Maliya stared down at him in surprise. "And why would you think that?" She asked, aghast.

"I overheard Bran talking to Old Nan the other day," Rickon explained, his voice thin and sad. "He said Aunt Lyanna and Grandfather Rickard and Uncle Brandon had gone South with men and they never came back. Now Father, Arya and Sansa are gone, and Mother and Jory and Ser Rodrik. They haven't come back yet and now Robb is going too! He's going to fight and he might – he might – " Rickon's voice caught on a sob and Maliya's heart nearly broke as she saw tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, little man," Maliya whispered, pulling him into a tight hug, brushing his unruly curls back to press a kiss to his forehead. "Do you understand why Robb is marching South to fight?"

Rickon sniffled. "Because of Father."

"That's right," Maliya murmured gently. "Some bad people have taken your father prisoner, as well as Sansa and Arya. Robb is going to free them, he's going to bring them back home. Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded, looking up at her with wide eyes so full of trust. "I'm scared too, Rick. It's hard being the one that's left behind, but Robb needs us to be strong. He just wants to be certain that we're going to be safe." While she knew the words were true, they tasted like ashes in her mouth. Strangely enough, she knew the words that would make Rickon feel better, but they didn't seem to apply to her.

"Everybody always leaves," he whispered brokenly. "Promise me you won't leave, Maliya. Promise me."

Unfortunately it didn't seem like she had a choice in the matter. It wasn't as if she could hide in a weapons wagon and follow Robb South. "I promise, Rick. I'm not going anywhere." She rubbed his back soothingly as he snuggled deeper into her side, his eyes falling shut as he drifted off to sleep. The anger had officially left her body, for the moment at least, and she realized she had been right, Rickon had made her feel better. Making the decision not to move in case she woke him, Maliya felt the exhaustion of the fight and the past couple days catching up with her. Not wanting to face Robb again tonight, Maliya followed Rickon into a troubled slumber.

Maliya spent most of the next day with Bran and Rickon as Robb and the other men finished packing everything for the trip. Robb was overseeing all the preparations and was most likely too busy to seek her out and talk about their fight, not that Maliya minded. She was still too upset and stubborn and hurt to deal with him at the moment, but before she knew it her dealine was up.

Robb and the other men had agreed that it was best to leave in the middle of the night because the Lannisters had spies everywhere. Which was why Maliya was standing besides Robb's grey stallion in the middle of the night, Grey Wind waiting at her side. She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to keep herself warm. Maester Luwin also stood by her side as they waited for Robb to come back from saying goodbye to Bran and Rickon, holding a torch in the air.

Maliya couldn't help herself from carefully searching his face as he finally emerged. "How did it go?" Maester Luwin asked in concern.

"About as well as to be expected," Robb answered, passing a weary hand over his face. "Bran was taken aback, but he stayed strong and seemed to understand. Rickon, on the other hand, let me say goodbye, but wouldn't look at me or respond in any way."

Maliya frowned as she heard this, sorrow passing through her. She had just spoken to Rickon last night and he had seemed better after their talk. She knew how much this would have hurt Robb, and the additional weight that would fall on his shoulders knowing he was leaving them like this.

"He'll come around, he just needs some time to process what is happening,," Maester Luwin assured him. He held out his hand with a grim smile. "Safe travels, My Lord. Make sure to write every so often."

"I will, thank you Maester Luwin," Robb said gratefully, shaking the other man's hand. "Look after my brothers." Maester Luwin nodded and excused himself to say farewell to Theon.

Robb turned to her warily and Maliya was suddenly slammed with an onslaught of emotions. Anger, uncertainty, betrayal, reluctance, affection, hesitance and a staggering amount of fear. She didn't want him to go, she wanted to go with him, she wanted to punch him and she wanted to kiss him. "So this is it," she said awkwardly, hating this distance between them.

He stepped closer to her, looking around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "Where have you been? You've avoided me all day and you never came back to bed last night. Where did you sleep?"

"I was talking with Rickon and accidentally fell asleep. He was pretty upset about you leaving, but I thought I had managed to calm him down. I'm sorry he didn't say goodbye to you." Maliya crossed her arms under her cloak, feeling incredibly uncomfortable as she looked at some point over his shoulder.

"I hate this," Robb blurted suddenly, looking distraught. "We've come so far, Maliya, we've grown so much and now – "

"And now you're leaving me behind," Maliya finished heatedly, her narrowed eyes finally meeting his own. "Look at this from my point of view, Robb. I am the one marching off to war and you are being left to look after Bran and Rickon, even though you are just as skilled fighter as any of the men in your army, even more so, in fact. But you're being left behind all because you wear a skirt and don't have a cock between your legs."

She thought she saw his lips twitch at her choice of words, but it was gone the moment her eyes narrowed. "I would hate it," he admitted in a soft voice, his eyes focused on her completely. "I would feel helpless and anxious and worried not knowing where you were and if you were okay - "

"Exactly - " Maliya cried triumphantly.

"But it doesn't change anything," Robb continued in a hard voice. "I don't want to argue again, Maliya – "

"Then just let me come with you – "

"No!" He interrupted furiously, blue eyes flashing even in the night, looking angrier and more frustrated as the seconds passed, even though he insisted that he didn't want to fight. "I need you to be here, I need to know that you are safe – "

"But why, Robb, I don't understand – " Maliya cried in exasperation, throwing up her hands.

"Because you are my wife and I love you!" Robb practically shouted at her, breathing heavily. He shut his mouth abruptly, looking shocked as if he hadn't meant to say those words at this moment. Maliya froze, eyes wide and mouth partially open. She was aware of Robb's eyes searching her face expectantly, but her brain had stuttered to a halt. She couldn't think straight, she couldn't analyze what she was feeling at the moment except for a feeling of panic and confusion. She should feel happy about this, shouldn't she? Isn't this what every girl and every wife wanted?

Except a part of her felt as if this were some surreal experience, as if she were a third party observer looking in.

"Come on, Robb, we're about ready to move out!" Theon called, mounting his horse.

Robb ignored him, still looking at Maliya intently, now looking slightly anxious. "Maliya?" He prodded gently.

Maliya knew what he wanted her to say, but she couldn't wrap her mind around what was happening, she needed more time to think! "I – " she stammered, shaking her head, feeling trapped. "I don't – " Robb's expression shuttered at her not so eloquent response, but not before she could see the flash of deep hurt that flickered across his face. Her stomach twisted terribly at the pain she was causing him, as she watched him straighten and physically take a step back, forcing a brave smile on his face. If she thought there had been a distance between them before, it was even bigger now. "Robb," she began again, not knowing what to say. She made to take a step forward but stopped at the look on his face.

"I'll write you as often as I can," he told her in a distant voice, as if he didn't hear her speak. He hesitated, looking painfully torn before stepping forward once more to press a soft kiss to her cheek. Maliya's eyes closed at his nearness, as his scent of winter and woods invaded her, but all too quick he was gone. "Goodbye, Maliya," he murmured, looking at her sadly for a moment before turning to his horse and gracefully mounting.

Maliya looked down as Grey Wind nudged her hand, whining softly. Swallowing the thick lump in her throat, Maliya knelt to his level, running her hand over his fur before hugging him gently around the neck. "Keep him safe, Grey," she whispered. Grey Wind lightly licked her cheek as she pulled back and she chose to think of that as his promise to do so.

She stood once more, lacing her fingers in front of her as her eyes found Robb. He was already watching her with an unreadable expression on his face, nodding to her once before turning his stallion's reins and joining his men, riding through them to the front, Grey Wind easily keeping pace at his side.

"Goodbye, Robb," Maliya whispered as she watched his men fall in behind him, the sound of hooves echoing loudly through the darkness. She stood there for a long while, long after the gates of Winterfell had closed, long after Maester Luwin had bid her goodnight. She didn't think it was possible, but she felt even worse now than she did last night.

Her thoughts and emotions were roiling around inside her, but there was one question that kept floating to the forefront of her mind. Did she love him?

Robb stood with his hands braced against the table, surveying the map in front of him. He could feel his bannermen surrounding him, watching him and waiting, judging him. "The Riverlords are falling back, with Jaime Lannister at their heels. And Lord Tywin is leading a second Lannister army from the South. Our scouts confirm that it is even larger than the Kingslayers."

The Greatjon drew himself in his chair. "One army or two," he scoffed, looking around impressively. "The Kings in the North threw back armies ten times as large." Robb blinked as the Greatjon suddenly stood and bowed his head respectfully, looking at something over his shoulder.

Robb turned to see what had caught his attention and was abruptly slammed with several emotions. "Mother," he murmured in a voice thick with emotion. He actually took a step forward toward her, feeling as if he were a young boy again, but stopped at the distant look on her face. He was momentarily confused before realizing that she was acting this way for his sake, because he would hardly look like the leader of an army if he went running to his mother's arms.

"You look well," she told him, her voice formal. He felt stupid just standing there, looking at her, but he couldn't find the words he wanted to say surrounded by his father's men.

"You're a welcome sight in these troubled times, Lady Catelyn," the Greatjon greeted in the resulting silence.

"We thought not to meet you here, My Lady," Theon said, sounding slightly perplexed.

His mother's smile was sad. "I had not thought to be here."

"Don't worry, we'll soon shove our swords up Tywin Lannister's bunghole soon enough, begging your pardons, and then it's on to the Red Keep to free Ned," the Greatjon crowed in an enthusiastic voice, causing even a flicker of a smile to cross his mother's face.

"My Lady, a question, as it please you," Roose Bolton spoke up, his voice small and thin, yet somehow powerful enough to command the attention of all the men in the tent. "It is said that you hold Lord Tywin's dwarf son as captive. Have you brought him to us? I vow, we should make good use of such a hostage."

Robb looked to his mother expectantly and was surprised to see a look of regret and annoyance pass over her face. "Unfortunately, I hold Lord Tyrion hostage no longer." The men surrounding the table gave a chorus disappointed grumbles, making his mother's lips tighten. "I was no more pleased than you, my lords," she assured them. "The gods saw fit to free him, with some help from my fool of a sister." She continued before they could question her further. "I would like to speak with my son, alone, My Lords, I hope you will forgive me."

They waited until all the lords had bowed and left, Ser Rodrik and the Greatjon embracing like old friends. It was only when they were gone that both Robb and his mother let out a sigh of relief, both of them meeting in the middle to embrace each other. Robb's eyes shut when he was in his mother's arms. He was happy to see her, but more than that, he was relieved. All the insecurities and the fears that he had kept hidden from his men came rising back up and now he knew he wouldn't have to carry the burdens alone.

"You've grown a beard," she murmured when she pulled back to hold him at arm's length, her eyes glistening as she looked up at him. Robb rubbed unconcsicously at the stubble growing on his face. "I remember when you came into this world, red faced and squalling. And now I find you with a man's beard, leading a host to war."

"There was no one else," Robb answered defensively, knowing what she was getting at.

"No one?" His mother repeated in disbelief. "Then who were all those men sitting around you just moments ago?"

"None of them are Starks – "

"All of them are seasoned in battle!"

Robb's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If you mean to send me back to Winterfell – "

His mother sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I wish that I could," she whispered honestly. "You may look like a Tully, but you are your father's son." Robb felt a sense of pride run through him at her word's, and he realized that he felt more assured with her here. "How are Bran and Rickon?" She asked as they moved to sit along the benches. "And Maliya?"

"Bran and Rickon are well – they miss their mother, little Rickon especially." He questioned his choice of words as he saw the sorrow and regret on her face, but maybe a part of him felt like she deserved it for leaving in the first place. "Maliya is – she's…. I'm not sure," he admitted, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He was up and pacing as the memories of that disastrous fight and goodbye scene came back to him. Grey Wind, who was never far away, lifted his head to survey him through his yellow eyes. His mother watched him as well, her eyes concerned and bewildered.

His hands opened and closed as the uncertainty, anger and hurt flooded through his veins. "We fought the night before I left," Robb admitted, glancing over at his mother briefly. He hesitated only for a moment before the words came spilling out of his mouth. "She assumed that she was going to accompany us to war and I did not think that I would have to tell her otherwise. She was furious – I've never seen her so angry." The withering expression that Maliya had given him flashed in the forefront of his mind, making his stomach twist painfully. "But what other choice did I have?" Robb asked in a lost voice, a large gust of air escaping him as he sat heavily next to his mother. "I needed her someplace safe, I couldn't stand it if she were injured or… or – "

"You did the right thing, Robb," his mother told him gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward so that she captured his gaze. "The battlefield is no place for a woman."

"I don't know if she'll ever forgive me." Robb turned to face her, feeling tortured as he voiced one of his main fears. It felt good to get his worries off his chest, of the things that had plagued him since he left Winterfell. "Maliya hates being told what to do, but more importantly she hates being told she can't do something because she is a woman. Not only did I do both of those things, but before I left I told her that I loved her." He groaned at the memory, burying his head in his hands. "I shouted it at her, actually, and then looked at her as if she should say it back. I didn't mean to say it, I didn't mean to shock her half to death. What kind of man does that make me? Who says 'I love you' and then has the gall to feel upset when his wife doesn't say it back? Who says something like that and rides off and leaves her behind?"

His mother was gazing at him with tears in her eyes and a small smile on her face. "Oh Robb," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. "Do you love her? Truly?"

"I do," Robb answered honestly and without hesitation. "It… it started out as small things – the fact that I would wake up beside her every morning and feel a certain peacefulness no matter what was happening around us. The little things I would do just to see her smile, or the fact that I missed her when she wasn't there. Then it was bigger things. I look forward to everyday with her, our future together. She has become the most important thing to me; she's become my family and I don't know what I'd do without her. Even now it feels as if there is a piece of me that is missing."

His mother's smile grew as he spoke, until it stretched wide across her face. "I'm so happy for you Robb," she told him, drawing him into a tight hug. "Love is a fascinating, all consuming, amazing thing. We are one of the few lucky ones to have found love in an arranged marriage. And don't worry about, Maliya, she just needs time to process this, to examine her own feelings. As you said, it wasn't the best timing and it did take her by surprise."

"Well, she'll have nothing but time," Robb muttered with another disappointed sigh. "I don't know when I'm going to see her again."

"After we rescue your father," his mother told him, reminding him of why they were there in the first place.

"There was a letter," Robb said, rummaging through his pockets and handing her the parchment. "From Sansa."

"From the Queen, you mean," his mother corrected in disgust. She took the letter and read it through quickly, her face growing more and more distraught. "There's no mention of Arya." He shook his head slowly when she looked up at him. "How many men do you have?"

"18,000," Robb answered, his expression quietly thoughtful. "If I go to King's Landing to bend the knee, we would never be allowed to leave and the Lannisters could still kill father, Arya and Sansa. But if I retreat and go home, I will lose the respect of all of our bannermen."

His mother nodded her agreement, her voice strong and passionate. "Our best hope, our only hope, is that we can beat them in the field. If we can capture Lord Tyrion or the Kingslayer than we may be able to make a trade, it's true. But so long as you have power, the Lannisters are going to fear you and what you are capable of. They will keep them alive just in case they have to keep the peace."

"And if I lose?" Robb questioned, though he thought he already knew the answer. "If the fighting doesn't go in our favor?"

"Remember the fate of the Targaryen children, of Maliya's cousins, when the Mad King fell?" His mother countered.

Robb's jaw clenched, still disgusted by the act all these years later. "They were butchered in their sleep."

"By Tywin Lannister," his mother added. "And the years have not made him any kinder."

"That makes it simple then," Robb reasoned, a grim smile on his face as a strength and determination filled him. "We will not lose."

"I thought I would find you here," Maliya called gently, smiling so as not to startle Bran. He was sitting in the godswood beneath the weirwood tree, his hands clasped as he prayed to the old gods. Bran looked up as she approached to sit next to him, his expression still as somber as the day Robb left. "How are you doing?" She quietly asked, slipping an arm around his shoulder to pull him in for a quick hug.

"I'm alright," Bran answered, the same response he gave her everytime she asked. "Are you? You seem different. Is it because Robb's not here? Do you miss him?"

"Yes," Maliya murmured, her heart lurching in her chest the same as it did everytime she thought of him. "More than I thought I would, it seems." She plastered a smile back on her face. "But enough about me. Do you mind if I pray with you for a while? I grew up worshipping the Seven, and while I have prayed to them already, they are not Robb's gods."

"Of course," Bran nodded. He put his hands together in front of him, bowing his head and clenching his eyes shut. "Please watch over Robb," he prayed. "And mother and father, Arya and Sansa. Please watch over the men in Robb's army and keep them safe. Help them defeat the Lannisters so they can come home and we can be a family again."

Maliya swallowed harshly, her heart reaching out to him as she watched him pray, forgetting that she was supposed to be doing the same thing. She didn't know what to say to make him feel better, she had tried everything that she could think of. It was even worse with Rickon. She was trying to spend time with him, but it was almost as if she could feel him slipping further and further away.

"Do you hear them, little lord?" They both wipped their heads around to see Osha, the wildling woman approaching them quietly. Maliya looked down, frowning and wondering how she could move so silently with chains tied around her ankles. Summer, who had been lying by the pool, stood as she approached, circling her and sniffing, causing Osha to freeze where she was. Maliya had kept a close eye on Osha ever since she had interrupted Maliya brewing the Moon Tea, but it seemed that the wildling woman truly didn't seem to care about what she witnessed.

"Summer to me," Bran called, hitting his thigh and petting the direwolf as he padded over to him. He titled his head to the side. "Do I hear who?"

"The gods," Osha answered, gesturing up at the heart tree. "They're mine too. Beyond the Wall, they're the only gods. You asked them and they're answering. Open your ears, listen, and you'll hear."

Maliya eyed her suspiciously as Bran looked up at the tree curiously, listening for a moment. "It's only the wind. The leaves are rustling," Bran told her, pointing out what should have been obvious.

"Who do you think sends the wind?" Osha countered, moving closer. "They see you, boy. They hear you talking. That rustling, that's them talking back."

Maliya could see Bran's curiosity grow with each word that came out of Osha's mouth, and she knew that she should probably put a stop to this conversation but she couldn't help but feel a little intrigued herself. "What are they saying?" Bran asked.

"They're sad," Osha told him in a mysterious voice. "Your lord brother will get no help from them, not where he's going. The old gods have no power in the south. The weirwoods there were all cut down thousands of years ago. How can they watch your brother when they have no eyes?"

It was a point that neither Bran or herself had considered, but before they could think about it too deeply, there was a loud crashing noise coming towards them and Hodor crashed through the trees, smiling smile lopsided smile and naked as the day he was born. Maliya's eyes widened as she caught sight of his huge manhood swinging heavily between his legs, before she swiftly averted her eyes, automatically clapping a hand over Bran's eyes and making him laugh.

"Hodor, go back and find your clothes!" Bran called, trying to pry Maliya's hands away.

"Hodor," Hodor agreed, before turning and bumbling through the woods again.

"Now that was a big man," Osha commented with a smirk. "He's got giant's blood in him, or I'm the queen."

"There aren't any giants anymore," Maliya pointed out in a sour voice, giving her a pointed look. She didn't need this woman telling Bran any ridiculous stories from beyond the Wall.

"Yes there are," Osha disagreed, those unnerving eyes moving to look at her. "My brother killed one once, ten foot tall she was. But that's not the worst thing that's out there. I tried to tell your husband that he was marching the wrong way." Maliya didn't believe a word she was saying, but it didn't stop a shiver from running down her spine. "The cold winds are rising. Men go out from their fires and never come back. Or if they do, they're not men not more, but only wights, with blue eyes and cold black hands. This is why I came South, though truthfully I wanted to get much farther than this. Mance thinks he'll fight, the sweet, brave, stubborn man, but white walkers are not men to be easily killed."

Maliya narrowed her eyes. "White walkers haven't been seen in thousands of years, not since the War for the Dawn ended."

"Can't you feel it in the air?" Osha murmured mysteriously, her voice almost hypnotic. "The walkers aren't sleeping no more."

When Maliya felt Bran shudder beside her, she blinked, realizing what she was allowing to happen. "That's enough," Maliya said, abruptly, standing and making Osha take a step back. "I'm sure there are some pots that need cleaning." Osha's eyes drited to Bran for a moment before she bowed respectfully and left without another word. "Hodor!" Maliya called, waiting a moment as he came back, fully clothed this time. "Help Bran get back to the castle, it's time for supper."

Summer stretched, circling them as Hodor picked Bran up. "Aren't you coming, Maliya?" Bran asked, looking back at her.

"I'll be there in a moment," Maliya told him. "Go on without me."

She waited until he left before turning to look back up at the heart tree, lacing her fingers in front of her. Sighing, she hesitated for a moment before she began to speak. "I don't… I'm not sure if you can hear me. Actually, I'm not sure of much these days," she muttered with a sigh. "But if you can hear me, then please watch over Robb. The rest of the people of the North as well, but especially Robb. We may have fought before he left, but I still miss him, even if he is an overprotective arse. I'm still not sure if I love him – I know what love is in regards to my family, but I've never loved a man before, I don't know what love is! I don't know if my mother loved my father, but even if they did have some sort of affection for each other, my father still abandoned her… and us. Uncle Doran loved Mellario, but she left him because he fostered Quentyn. Those aren't the best examples of love. I know that I care for Robb, deeply, but I am unsure if it runs as deep as love. I pray for help and guidance… in all aspects of my life at this moment." She stopped when she ran out of words and turned to go, but paused. "Thank you," she finished awkwardly, bowing her head slightly before leaving the godswood.

She didn't know if she would receive help in any form, but she somehow felt better anyway.

Darkness. That's all that existed in his life now. There was no sun or moon – it mattered not if his eyes were opened or closed, everything was still black. He didn't know how long he had been imprisoned here deep below the Red Keep, but it felt like forever. The only thing he had for company was his own voice and the people he wished he could damn straight to the deepest parts of hell. Littlefinger, Janos Slynt and the gold cloaks for turning on him, Lord Renly for running when he was needed most, the queen for being a conniving bitch and not leaving when he gave her the chance and even Robert for being a terrible king.

But it was worse when he thought of his daughters, wild-spirited Arya and beautiful Sansa who only wanted to marry a prince. He wanted to weep and scream and shout at the world and he may have done so. He slowly felt as if he were losing his mind; he began to talk out loud just to hear the sound of another voice. He remembered the King as he was when he was young, he remembered the fighting all those years ago, he remembered his sister and Rhaegar Targaryen and his daughter Rhaenys, who was now his good-daughter. He had tried to help her, he had kept her secret and tried to find out who had smuggled her out of King's Landing.

Footsteps came from outside the cell, and Ned weakly turned his to the side to see who was approaching as the door opened. Ned flinched at the light from the torch as the figure squatted down next to him, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. This goaler was different, one he didn't recognize. He was shorter than the other, though he wore the same leather half cape and spiked steel cap. "Here, Lord Stark," the man said, handing him a wineskin. "Drink."

Ned slowly took the wineskin, frowning at the man's voice, something going off in the back of his mind. "Varys?" He croaked after a momen, actually reaching out to touch the man's face to make sure he was real. "How did you….?"

Varys gestured to the wineskin, ignoring his question. "Drink." He sighed theatrically when Ned still hesitated and reached out to take the wineskin for himself. "Why is it that no one trusts the eunuch?" He muttered under his breath, taking a quick sip before handing it back. "Slowly, slowly! You should save some for later, My Lord, many have been known to die of thirst down here."

Ned coughed, lowering the wineskin with a shaky hand. "My daughters…" he whispered.

"The younger girl escaped from Ser Meryn," Varys informed him, and Ned found himself hanging intently on his every word. "Even my little birds cannot find her, but that means the Lannisters haven't either, which is a small blessing. Your older girl is still engaged to Joffrey. Cersei will keep her close. The rest of your household though, all dead it grieves me to tell you, I do so hate the sight of blood."

Ned looked at the other man with a hint of disgust, anger flitting through his veins. "You watched my men being slaughtered and did nothing?"

Varys tilted his head to the side, blinking once. "And would again. I was unarmed, unarmored and surrounded by Lannister swords. I am no hero, My Lord, there was nothing that I could have done. I am a master of whisperers, I must be sly and obsequious and without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight." The two men fell silent, surveying each other for another moment. "I trust you realize you're a dead man?"

Ned shook his head. This was one thing he was relieved to know, at least. "The queen will not kill me. Cat holds her brother. If she does anything to me or to the girls – "

"Unfortunately, your wife has let the Imp slip through her fingers. He's somewhere in the Mountain of the Moon."

The news was devastating. The small bubble of hope that had been kept alive in his chest, popped, withered and died. "If that's the case then just slit my throat and be done with it," Ned rasped, distraught.

"Not today, My Lord. Really, what madness led you to tell the queen that you had learned the truth of Joffrey's birth?" Varys questioned, shaking his head in disbelief.

"The madness of mercy," Ned admitted, passing a hand over his face. "I had hoped she would leave and save her children."

"Ah, to be sure. Unfortunately, not many people are as honorable and honest as you are, My Lord."

A sudden thought struck him, one that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of before. He didn't know if it was because he was so weak or delirious from lack of hunger, but it all began to make sense. "Could you get me out of these pits?" Ned asked, probing and watching his expression as carefully as he could, wishing more than anything else that he could think straight.

Varys gave him a sad smile. "Could I? Of course. But I won't. That would lead to questions and the answers would lead back to me."

"You know secret ways around the castle and the city, you and your birds know everything that goes around here and you advised the Mad King against opening the gates for Tywin Lannister," Ned told him, half delirious as his vision swam. If he was correct, then Varys wouldn't say anything now, not to ruin the secret he had kept for over a decade. "I have thought about it over and over, trying to figure it out in my head when all along it was you. You were the one who smuggled Rhaenys Targaryen out of King's Landing the day the Mad King Fell."

Did Ned imagine the flicker of shock and fear in Varys' eyes? "What an odd thought process, My Lord. I don't think you're mind is working properly. Little Rhaenys Targaryen was slain while hiding under her father's bed, as you very well know."

"Yes, and she was mangled so badly that it was difficult to recognize her face," Ned mused, still thinking out loud. "Who do you truly work for, Varys? The Targaryens? Because of you, Rhaenys is alive and well, and she's now married to my son. And yet I've heard whispers that you aided Aerys' paranoia and his descent into madness."

Lord Varys stood, his expression becoming blank once more. "I serve the realm, My Lord," Varys cryptically answered, effectively ending their conversation. "Someone has to."

Ned watched him leave, taking the torch with him and abandoning him to the darkness once more. He wanted to call him back, to question him further about Rhaenys and receive confirmation that he was the one who had actually smuggled her out of King's Landing. Frowning, Ned leaned his head back against the wall, belated wondering whether the entire conversation had been real or if he had imagined the whole thing.

Author's Note: Ahhh don't kill me! Hopefully you guys felt that Robb's confession and Maliya's reaction to both the fact that she was being left behind and that he loved her was realistic. And there was a little intrigue with the whole Varys/Ned conversation. What do you think is going to happen next? Anything you guys want to see in particular?

Next chapter: A closer look at Maliya's feelings, some concern from the Maester, a letter to Dorne and a few nightmares to add to the mix. The entire chapter will be told from Maliya's POV, but don't worry, we'll see Robb the chapter after!

As always, please don't forget to leave a review with your honest thoughts. I love reading what you guys think and the reviews make my day :)

Guest 1 - Thanks for the review, I'm so glad you're loving the story :)

Guest 2 - I don't want to give anything away regarding Theon, so you're just going to have to stick around and see! Thanks for reviewing!

Deiron Lionheart - Thanks for taking the time to review! You brought up a lot of good points regarding the crypts and it will definitely be something that I have to think more about! Your questions about what's coming are really good as well, but I don't like giving things away :)

Guest 3 - Thank you! I also want to thank you for seeing the fact that Ned dying was one of the main reasons the war really got underway. It's refreshing to read that rather than everyone else who wants me to save him.

Boramir - I hope this chapter answered your question about whether she's going to stay or go! Though with Maliya, nothing is too certain is it lol. Wow you have a lot of questions - I want to keep the element of surprise! I will say that we will be hearing more from Ned, we will hear from Dorne and that isn't the last we will see of the dragon egg!

Samantha - Thanks for your review, I'm so glad you liked the chapter again! The scene with Osha was a last minute addition - I felt she was too good a character to ignore!

Guest 4 - Thanks for reviewing! As you can see from this chapter, Maliya is home - for now!