A/N: I want to thank everyone for reading, alerting, and favoring this story.

I also want to extend my appreciation to thepkrmgc, Mikle Silver, Axular, Dragonbinder, Hiei-Uchiha, pettersoderberg01, Fejstroll, Ari989, Leovanna, Nox Descious, CupcakePride101, and to the guests and to 'A' for taking the time to review. It means a lot to me. Your incredible support keeps the muse happy. And a happy muse is a busy muse.

Our Blades Are Sharp

By Spectre4hire

8: Robb

Dawn had yet to arrive, and already Winterfell was bustling.

There was noise and movement everywhere. Horses were being led out of the stables to be harnessed and saddled. Banners of Stark and Bolton flapped in the breeze as men from both houses were shouting orders to make sure all preparations were ready so that they could begin as soon as the Lords arrived.

Robb was already outside. He stifled a yawn. Hullen had thankfully already attended to his horse so all that was left for Robb was to wait for his friends to arrive.

A hunt had been arranged to commemorate the recent announcement of the betrothal between Sansa Stark and Domeric Bolton. The news had been greeted with celebration throughout the castle, a small, but telling testament of the feelings that Sansa and Domeric had culminated with the people who lived and worked here.

At first, Robb had been surprised at the announcement. It was more the timing then the actual news. He was aware of him and his siblings' duties especially his and Sansa as they were the oldest son and daughter, and therefore more responsibility relied on them in terms of securing an advantageous spouse for their family. Seeing as he was the oldest and heir to Winterfell, he had expected his own betrothal to be made before Sansa's. However, he was also a bit relieved that there was currently no betrothal looming over him.

Seeing how well Sansa and Domeric got along before and after the news had made Robb a bit envious. They had gotten to know one another without any betrothal hanging over them to pressure the pair into forming some sort of friendship. It had happened naturally, and when it did only then did his parents seemed interested in the idea of making a betrothal with the Lord of the Dreadfort, which Robb suspected had been Lord Bolton's objective all along.

Whether or not it had been Lord Bolton's goal it didn't seem to corrupt or strain the friendship that Robb witnessed between his sister and friend. He could only hope for a similar outcome when it came his time to be betrothed. He wasn't keen on the idea of marrying a stranger. Even though he knew his parents hadn't met until the day they were married. They had been able to find love in their marriage. That provided Robb some ease, but still watching Sansa and Domeric together, he couldn't deny that he wanted something similar.

Thinking more about the betrothal, if Robb was honest he'd admit he had been a little bit disappointed in the match between Sansa and Domeric. That disappointment stemmed from his earlier hopes of a betrothal being struck between Theon and Sansa. An idea he had grown attached to as his friendship with Theon grew over the years.

However, even if that had been his hope at some point, Robb still had his reservations about it. Theon's infamy with brothels was one. And Robb wasn't certain his friend could be honest to one woman and he definitely couldn't stomach the idea of his sister being married to an unfaithful husband.

That little drop of disappointment he felt had evaporated at seeing just how happy Sansa was with Domeric. Robb knew his parents had made the right decision at the feast when it had been announced. His sister was all but glowing at the news, and Robb noticed Domeric's own unguarded enthusiasm as well as the affection and attention he had given Sansa throughout the evening.

A caw cried over head, bringing Robb's attention back to his surroundings. He looked up to see a few ravens flying to and from the Maester's turret. A sliver of coolness coiled itself in his stomach at seeing them. He knew since his sister's betrothal had been announced throughout the North that many of the northern families had ratcheted up their own offers and shows of interest in forging a betrothal of their daughters with Robb.

His thoughts on the offers coming from the northern families were forgotten when he spotted someone moving towards the stables. Knowing, he needed to do something Robb made his way over.

"What are you doing here? You should be in bed."

Arya turned around. Surprise covered her face, but there was determination in her eyes. "I want to come."

"You know you can't," Robb told her gently.

"It's not fair," she complained, "I'm a good rider!"

Robb sighed. "I know." He crouched down. "And you're a great rider."

She beamed at the compliment, but her lips soon trembled at not being able to come with them.

"Arya, you have to stay here. Father has already made his decision."

She kicked some dirt with her boot, knowing she had no recourse but to return to the castle.

"I'll tell you what," Robb put his hands on her shoulders. "You stay here this time and I promise next time I go riding with Domeric and Jon into the Wolfswood that you can come with us."

"You mean it?" Arya lit up.

"I do," Robb swore.

Arya nearly tackled him to the ground with her hug. Robb enveloped his younger sister, picking her up and earning a squeal of delight when he spun her before putting her back down. He was hoping that no one had heard or spotted his sister out of bed.

"Now you best head back before Father or Mother catch you out here."

"I'll go back," Arya promised.

He smiled at her and gave her a quick hug before watching her sneak back towards the castle.

"Such a pity," drawled a familiar voice, "I much prefer her company over Greyjoy's."

Robb could only shake his head when he turned around to greet his friend. Domeric was standing behind him, but he wasn't alone, Jon was there too. The presence of his brother for the hunt had been a pleasant surprise for Robb. Knowing how the nobility viewed bastards, he had thought Jon wouldn't be allowed to go with them.

It wasn't until last night that Robb discovered Jon would be joining them. It was his brother himself who revealed the news looking conflicted at the idea, and muttering this was Domeric's doing. An observation made in jest, and seeing Jon here, Robb knew his brother was pleased at the opportunity to go on the hunt. It left Robb to wonder how Domeric had convinced his father to let Jonaccompany them.

"We came to find you," Domeric explained. "The hunting party is ready."

Robb nearly frowned. Since it had been him waiting for them for the longest time only to find out now he was the one holding up the hunt. "Very well," he led them back to where their horses were waiting for them.

"Let's be off."

"Theon!" Robb called out to his friend. "Slow down!"

The heir to the Iron Islands didn't heed Robb's words. Instead, Theon was urging his horse away from him.

"The damn boar went this way!" Theon shouted over his shoulder.

Robb tried to keep up but Theon was still way out ahead of him. He could hear the thundering hooves and didn't need to turn to know they belonged to Domeric and Jon who had gone after him when he chased after Theon.

Theon looked around the clearing where they were before perking up at something he must have seen because without saying a word, he went off again.

"Theon!"

"Forget him," said a disgruntled Domeric. "Let him go."

"We should head back," Jon said solemnly. "I don't see any of Father's men."

"How could you?" Domeric rebutted, "Theon has led us on a merry chase to the middle of nowhere."

"We should go after him," Robb argued.

Domeric got off of his horse and sent Robb a look that clearly conveyed he wasn't in the mood to chase after Theon. "Let the horses rest for a second," He led his over to a nearby creek, "And then we can decide if we should go after Greyjoy."

"They may find us if we stay put," Jon reasoned, taking Domeric's advice and leading his horse to the creek so it can get some water.

Robb still staring off where Theon went off before turning back to them to see neither looked that willing to continue the chase at the moment. "Fine," Robb joined them.

"Was that so difficult?" Domeric quipped.

Robb rolled his eyes, but before he could answer he heard a rustle coming from the bushes in front of them.

"Could Greyjoy have been right?" Domeric sounded in pain at the thought that Theon had been right about something.

"What have we here?" asked a low voice as a short, stout man pushed his way through the thicket of bushes. He wasn't alone. Several others emerged from various shadows from the surrounding Wolfswood, making their way towards them. Robb counted six.

"Wildlings," Jon murmured.

The short, stout wildling let out a bark of laughter. "Ain't the gods good?" He turned to the wildling closest to him; who was a towering man dressed in various hides and leathers. His face severely mutilated with markings, his eyes dark and hard. He held an ugly jagged looking battle axe against his shoulder.

"It seems they are," The giant of the man replied in a deep rumbling voice.

"And they got horses," chirped the wildling closest to Domeric. It was a woman, lanky, and sported a dark cloak that Robb was sure had come off a member of the Night's Watch. She held an axe in her hand and there was a cold glint in her eyes.

"We'll be taking those horses, southerners," the short wildling told them.

"We're not southerners," Robb bristled.

The wildlings laughed loud and hard at his declaration.

"Anyone south of the Wall is a southerner, kneeler." The short wildling chided him.

"You're not taking the horses," Domeric had already pulled out his sword and took a protective step to put himself between him and his horse, Shadow.

The woman took a step towards Domeric. "Best step away, boy." She pointed her axe at him. "I've killed men for lesser things."

Jon unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the woman, "It'd be wise if you left us before our party returns."

"We'll take our chances," the short wildling replied, withdrawing a pair of serrated blades.

One of the wildlings let out a gasp of pain before stumbling forward to show an arrow protruding from his back. He coughed up blood before giving a weak grunt and fell over.

"Theon!" said a relieved Robb.

Another wildling fell at Theon's precision with a bow, while the Iron Islands heir remained hidden and safe in the shadows of the looming trees of the Wolfswood.

The sight of the two fallen wildlings sent the others into a frenzy. It wasn't fear that drove them but vengeance. Letting out battle cries they charged them. A third one fell from Theon's bow before the wildlings reached them. Domeric had the woman while Jon took on the towering wildling, the last wildling was the short, stout one who Robb was confident was the leader of this wildling raiding party.

Robb with sword already out met the strong blow from his wildling attacker. Who let out a snarl before slashing at Robb with his second sword. Robb sidestepped the attack and struck high with his weapon, while trying to ignore his heart pounding in his ears.

The wildling leader blocked the blow and cut inwards; Robb spun out of the reach of the blade and had his sword up predicting a second strike. He was right. His sword blocked the blow that would've slashed him across the chest had he not anticipated the move.

Robb pushed off with his sword and unleashed a series of blows onto the wildling leader. He met each one of Robb's strikes with his swords to parry the attacks. He slashed high with one of his swords while cutting low with the other in an effort to trap Robb. He ducked to miss the high strike and had his sword to block the low one.

He heard a loud roar followed by a thud and knew it must've come from the tall wildling warrior. Robb didn't dare look to see what had happened, for a split second he feared the thud had been from Jon and he had been injured or worst. But those fears were alleviated when he heard Jon's voice. But the clang of swords drowned out what his brother had said.

The wildling twirling his swords resembled a metal blur. He poked and stabbed at Robb in hopes of opening him up his stance, but remembering his training from Ser Rodrik, Robb did not break his discipline. When he could meet the blades with his sword he did and pushed them away from his body and those he could not deflect with steal, he dodged with his feet.

With the last stab, Robb saw his opening and moved his sword in a cutting arc, but when he noticed the gleam in the wildling's eye he knew he fell for a feint. The wildling spun easily out of reach from Robb's blade appearing at Robb's side, blades poised in a swift move to try to decapitate Robb, he ducked the move before driving his sword right through the wildling's neck in an upwards motion that had his blade coming out of the top of the wildling's skull.

He was dead instantly.

Robb bit back the bile that burned its way up his throat. He pulled the sword out and turned when the wildling's body crumpled to the ground. He dropped his sword not wanting to see the blood and brain bits that were speckled on it.

He looked up to see his brother had bested and killed the towering wildling. His face was grim and he was panting from the exertion the fight had taken out of him. His grey eyes were transfixed on the body of the wildling he had killed.

Before Robb could say anything to his brother, a cry broke through and he turned to see Domeric had bested the woman, who now lay on her back, weapon out of reach and her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Mercy!"

Domeric had a nasty looking bruise covering the left side of his face where it seemed he had gotten hit by the flat side of her axe. His expression hooded in anger. He never lowered his weapon at her surrender, instead he plunged his sword into the woman's chest before Robb could so much as blink.

She let out an anguished cry that chilled Robb's insides. She coughed up blood, her eyes widened in fright. Her body shuddered for a few seconds before finally going still.

"Domeric?!" Robb couldn't believe what his friend had just done. "She surrendered!"

Domeric pulled his sword out of her. The movement made a soft, squishy sound. He turned to Robb, his eyes cold and dark. For the first time, Robb saw the resemblance to his father, Lord Roose Bolton. And that frightened him.

"I didn't accept it." He said flatly.

Stunned by the cold answer his friend gave, but before Robb could press him on what he just did, Theon revealed himself. The heir of the Iron Islands sauntered out from where he had remained hidden in the Wolfswood. His bow held loosely in his hand. A smirk was on his lips as he took in the scene of the skirmish that left six wildlings dead.

"You're welcome," he said to them.

Jon rolled his eyes and Domeric scoffed. It was clear neither of them were going to offer their gratitude to him. Since they both blamed him for getting them in this situation in the first place.

"We need to get going," Jon insisted. "We need to tell Father about the wildlings."

Robb couldn't argue with his brother's words. As Warden of the North, it was up to their father to protect the North. This wildling attack would concern him and no doubt, he would send word to the Night's Watch to try to figure out how these wildlings were slipping past the Wall.

"You're right," Robb agreed, as the three of them made their way to their horses that had been tied up before the fight with the wildlings. The horses were spooked, but they were able to calm them after a few seconds.

Settling on his horse, Robb couldn't help but look at the dead wildlings that littered the ground before them. He had killed someone today. Seeing his sword go through the wildling's skull had nearly made him vomit afterwards. He could still taste the bile residue that had climbed up his throat.

He had never killed before. Robb looked over to see his brother shared his own conflicting expression. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to return to his father. Robb was certain he would have wise words for him and Jon when they returned to console them on what happened today. Father always knew what to say. His words always had a way of helping Robb with his struggles or his fears.

Robb moved his attention over to Domeric. He was unable to forget what his friend had done to the woman who had surrendered. Looking to see the heir to the Dreadfort sat calmly upon his horse. There seemed no doubt or guilt weighing on him for what he did. That troubled Robb.

The four friends left the dead wildlings behind to seek out the hunting party. Robb knew that what happened here had changed him and the others. They were different now. One could not kill a man and not remain unchanged.

Was this the action that spurred them from boys to men? Robb could only wonder.

A/N: So one more chapter to wrap up this arc and then it's time for the Game of Thrones to begin.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire