It was a funny thing, really, knowing that come the next morning one's role in the world would be entirely changed. She had left King's Landing and come to Winterfell knowing this day would come, but it had always felt so distant, so beyond her. No matter how many years passed, it had always felt as if this day was years away, and now that the day was here it still felt as though it was years away.

She sat up in her bed, wiping the sleep out of her eyes and stretching. A flash of blue caught her eye and she turned to see the winter roses Robb had given her the night before, after he walked her to her rooms. "I won't be able to give them to you on the morrow, if Sansa has her way" he had said. He had given her a sweet kiss before heading towards his own rooms, leaving her blushing and her stomach full of butterflies.

He's a fool, she thought fondly. My fool.

Robb was always so sweet to her, going out of his way to gift her flowers or the honey cakes she was fond of. She laughed to think of how they had despised each other as children. They would argue for days and try to outdo each other on the training yard, where Robb would usually win. But overtime their rivalry turned friendly, and their friendship turned to a love she was ever thankful for.

What would I have done if we continued to hate each other? Would the betrothal have been broken? She doubted it. Her grandfather had never been concerned for her happiness here, only caring that she did her duty and played her role for the family.

There's naught to worry over, however. For if Robb is a fool for her then she is certainly a fool for him. The time she spent embroidering with Sansa and Jeyne was often spent working on something or other for Robb. A new jerkin or a pretty handkerchief in Stark colours, or perhaps mending clothes which had torn in the training yard. Clothes she had likely torn with her own sword in a spar that had been a tad bit too competitive.

She took her time, choosing to dress herself and enjoy her last morning as a maiden in peace. I'll be married this evening, and my mornings will no longer be so alone. She knew the Lord and Lady Stark shared a bedchamber and she wondered if Robb would wish to do the same. She wouldn't mind. Despite the heated walls of Winterfell she often found herself chilled at night, still unused to the cold. A problem she had solved by spending the night with Sansa or Arya, but that would be out of the question once she was married.

She supposed she wouldn't mind Robb's company, either.

Sansa. Her dearest friend. As the wedding had grown closer, Alysanne had often found herself wondering if perhaps Sansa wasn't more excited than she was. Sansa had helped her eagerly every step of the way, and it was due to her skilled hand that her dress for tonight was so beautiful. It had also been Sansa who had insisted she and Robb stay as far apart as possible on the actual day. A command which irked Alysanne, one which she hoped to defy with Arya's help.

Alysanne broke her fast in her room and made her way down to the yard, taking a lesser used path to the glass gardens, where she hoped she may find some peace.

"Alys!" She whirled around at her name, only to see Ser Addam walking towards her. She smiled at him. She waited until he approached to greet him.

"Would you care to join me?" she asked.

"That depends, where are you taking me?" He asked her.

"To your death, of course," she teased, grabbing his arm and leading him along with her. He gave her an unimpressed look, having heard that same joke many a time. He followed anyway, knowing now the path they take and knowing her propensity for strolls through the glass gardens.

She walked with Ser Addam, enjoying the peace and time away from the noise. Not only had the King come to see her wed, but so had the important bannermen from around the North. Everywhere she went she was stopped by those who wished to ingratiate themselves with the future Lady of Winterfell.

"Are you nervous? For tonight?" He asked, looking down at her for a moment. Alysanne sighed. She took a moment to consider his question. She had always gone to Ser Addam with any of her fears and worries, he had been her confidant since she left King's Landing. In truth, he had been her only friend for that journey and the first few months in Winterfell.

Am I? Nervous? She hadn't given it much thought. She'd been much too busy with this lord and that lord and the final wedding preparations the last few days. Besides, it's only Robb. She knew Robb, trusted Robb more than anyone save perhaps the man walking alongside her. But what about after the wedding? Will he still love me the same once we're bound forever? Will he grow bored of me?

"What if he grows bored of me? What if someday, he wishes to send me away?" She looked up at him.

Ser Addam only laughed, and she scowled at him. "Forgive me, little lion. I do not laugh at you." He laid a reassuring hand on top of hers. "The lad follows you around like that wolf of his follows him, and he spends his mornings picking flowers for you. He's not like to send you away."

"But what if he does?"

Ser Addam stopped and came to stand in front of her, placing a hand over his chest and bowing deeply. "Then I swear to you, I will bring you his head." Alysanne stared at him wide eyed before he looked up at her, a lopsided grin on his face.

She slapped his arm and he laughed. "You're being ridiculous, Ser Addam. Now you are laughing at me."

"I only laugh at you because you're being just as ridiculous," Ser Addam said.

"I am not!" They began walking again, taking their time, as neither of them were eager to leave their peace. Alysanne continued talking, her voice quiet. "My father sent me away."

She felt his grip tighten on her arm. "Your father did not send you away because he was bored of you, or because he did not love you. Your grandfather made that decision," he reassured.

"But he did not visit me," Alysanne whispered.

Ser Addam hesitated. "But he did not visit you."

Alysanne leaned against him as they continued to walk. She smiled when they passed a bush of winter roses, a patch bare where Robb must have picked them. Alys spoke again.

"I wish you could walk me tonight," She said, looking back up at him.

He didn't say anything for a moment, looking down at her with eyes full of sorrow. "I'll be there for you after, my little lion."

She faced forward again and decided to voice another of her worries. "The northern lords don't respect me, Ser Addam, I see it in their eyes. They see a mad Targaryen or silly southron girl. How can I be Lady of Winterfell if they don't respect me?"

They came around a bend and began to head back towards the keep, Ser Addam slowing their pace to buy them more time.

"Did I ever tell you what Lord Stark said to me? After your incident with Theon?" he asked. Her face heated up at the memory and she shook her head. "He said, 'She's got fire, that one. Let it grow, and she ought have no trouble with my bannermen'" He said, putting on an exaggerated northern accent in a bid to imitate Lord Stark. Alysanne giggled, and he let out a small chuckle. "You'll have no trouble, Alys. They can't be any worse than your grandfather, or Theon when he was that age."

They laughed again, and all too soon their peace was gone as they reemerged to the main yard. He faced her and she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Ser Addam. For everything." He smiled at her and dipped into a small bow before he was gone, headed towards the training yard and shouting for Bran. I would be lost without him. He's been here from the start, if there's anyone I can trust to be honest with me it's him.

Alysanne turned to walk into the keep, preferably to find Arya, and stopped when she saw Cersei standing and waiting for her, a fixed smile on her face. Alysanne dropped into a curtsey. "Your grace. Forgive me, I did not see you."

Cersei approached her and grabbed her forearms, gently lifting her. "None of that, child. Call me Cersei, or Aunt if you wish. We're family, after all."

Alysanne bristled at being called a child, and was inwardly suspicious of how informal Cersei was with her. I only spent four moons with her in King's Landing, but never once have I seen her be so kind or informal with anyone. Save Joffrey, perhaps."To what do I owe the pleasure, your grace?" Alys said, keeping her formalities.

Cersei's smile tightened. "I was hoping you would show me your wedding gown. I'm most eager to see it." Most eager to get me alone, more like. But I can't very well refuse her.

"Of course." Alysanne led the way, making idle talk about court and her cousins, trying her best to keep the conversation away from Joffrey. She had ignored Joffrey's presence and he had mostly ignored hers, but she imagined that would not continue for long. He did not like to be without his playthings, afterall.

They made their way to her chambers and she led Cersei to her dress, which was hanging off the large armoire. Cersei walked around it, picking up a sleeve and examining it closer before running her hands along the delicate embroidery and beadwork that decorated the bodice. Cersei raised an eyebrow at something, Alys wasn't quite sure what, and she fought the need to defend her dress.

It had taken her and Sansa ages to complete, over a year at the very least, and she couldn't have been more pleased with the finished product. If she was being honest with herself, it was Sansa who did most of the complicated embroidery. Sansa hadn't seemed to mind, and Alys was well pleased her sister-in-all-but-name had such a part in her dress.

Cersei turned back to her, an almost mocking smile on her face. "It's quite beautiful, for a northern gown," Cersei said.

Alysanne didn't like the way her voice turned when she said northern, and thought it was beautiful for any gown, north or south. It was white with hints of grey, a nod to what would be her new house, and she had made use of the myrish lace which had been gifted to her by Lord Manderly on her last nameday. There were snowflakes embroidered in pale silver thread all along the bodice, and beautiful glass beads. It was truly the finest gown she had ever owned, and the fact that she would only wear it this once was almost cause enough to weep.

Alys lifted her chin. "It's one of the finest gowns I've owned, both here and in Casterly Rock," she replied.

Cersei only hummed, before turning back and picking up the other sleeve. "Did you make it yourself? Or did Lord and Lady Stark hire a seamstress?" Cersei questioned.

Alysanne clasped her hands in front of her, feeling much like a child being reprimanded. "Lady Sansa and I made it," Alys said.

Cersei gave another of her fixed smiles. "How lovely," she said, voice bordering on patronizing, "I remember my wedding gown. It took the seamstresses months, my father spared no expense and it all went to waste during the bedding ceremony."

The bedding ceremony. Alysanne had forgotten about it until that moment, and she tried not to let her worry show. She thought of her beautiful gown being torn to shreds by southron lords eager to get a glimpse of the last dragon and had to suppress a shiver. Lord Eddard refused one at his, perhaps he will grant me the same mercy. However with the King in attendance, Alys doubted she'd come away unscathed. She looked up and noticed Cersei was staring at her, a queer look on her face as she waited for her reply. Alys cleared her throat. "I'm sure your gown was very beautiful, your grace."

"It was. Golden silk from Qarth and pearls and rubies from the Summer Isles. There was never a dress so fine, and there hasn't been since," Cersei said, tone sweet but her words pointed.

Alysanne did not respond, and Cersei began to slowly walk around her room, examining her living quarters. She ran her hands over her furs and made her way to the window by her desk. "It's so cold and lonely up here. I did try to convince my father to keep you South, where you belong," Cersei said.

Alysanne came to join her by the window. "It's not so lonely, your grace. I've the Starks to keep me company," Alysanne answered.

They watched as Arya and Bran sparred on the training yard. "Yes, the Starks. I did warn you of their savage ways. The youngest girl, Arya, was her name?" Alys nodded. "A wild thing, that girl. No daughter of mine would ever behave such a way," Cersei said, condemnation filling her words.

"She isn't so wild, your grace. She's been a true friend to me," Alysanne countered.

Cersei ignored her words. "If you ever tire of this wasteland, know you are always welcome in King's Landing. Your mother had such poor health, I can't imagine this cold will do you any good," She said.

My mother, she knew my mother! Of course! Perhaps Cersei was not the best person to ask about her mother, but who aside from her father knew her? Her father refused to speak of her, her grandfather was not a man of many words, and Tyrion hadn't known her very well. "Your grace, if I may, how well did you know my mother?" She asked tentatively.

A flash of something crossed Cersei's eyes, an emotion Alys couldn't place. Cersei rounded and took a seat in one of the chairs by the hearth, motioning for Alys to take the seat across from her. "Your mother was a sweet girl. Kind, and a bit simple perhaps," Cersei began.

Alysanne frowned. Simple? She can't imagine that someone who supposedly read as much as her mother could be simple. "Did they love each other? My parents?" Alysanne asked.

Cersei gave her a strained smile. "I suppose Jaime loved her in his own way," she replied. Cersei leaned forward and took her hands. "I know what it is, to be so curious about a mother you so rarely hear anything about." Cersei's eyes roamed over her face, as if searching for something. "You and I are so alike. I too did not have a mother to help me prepare for my wedding night, so allow me to impart on you some wisdom. All men are the same, they take what they want. He will not be gentle, and he will not care for your pain. Drink wine, and find a pleasant memory."

Alysanne's stomach dropped and her frown deepened. Cersei only patted her hand and tapped a finger under her chin. "Chin up, little dragon. All will be well." She rose and made her way to the door. "Thank you for showing me the dress, I'm sure you'll look lovely."

Cersei was gone before she could reply, and Alysanne was left with nerves that had not been there before.

Was Cersei right? Who could she go to about this? Her Septa wouldn't know, for all her preaching about the marital bed she was celibate. Certainly not Ser Addam. She could go to him for many things, but nothing of this nature. I would never be able to look at the poor man in the eyes again! For a moment she considered Lady Catelyn, but quickly discounted her. It's her own son we'd be speaking of, she would never tell the truth of it.

As much as she didn't want to believe it, what reason did her Aunt Cersei have to lie? Oh, she was certain Cersei had lied about many a thing, but it had just been the two of them. Would Robb really be so…so…callous with her? Certainly not, never my Robb. But then again, what did she really know of the marriage bed? No woman had truly spoken to her of the marriage bed before, aside from her Septa. Lady Catelyn had explained to her what flowering entailed, but never much beyond.

Perhaps Cersei was right. Perhaps it was just the way of things.

She heard a soft knock on her door and stood, brushing off her skirts and taking a steadying breath. She walked forward and opened it, only to find Sansa standing there patiently. "There you are! I've come to help you ready," Sansa said.

Seven hells. "It can't be time already, can it? I had hoped to find Arya-"

"Hoped to find Arya and sneak away to find Robb?" Sansa interjected, raising a brow at her, a knowing smirk on her face.

Alys could only blush. "Still, it's much too early," she argued, her only real defense to what was certainly a baseless accusation.

"It's never too early!" Sansa paused and waved forward maids who had been just out of view. "Come now! There's much work to be done," Sansa made her way into the room, not caring for any more of her protests. The maids passed her by, carrying a tub and various soaps and oils and perfumes and pails of hot water. Alysanne only looked on, bemused.

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" Sansa gestured to the door and then to the tub. Alys closed the door and stripped down, climbing into the tub and finding comfort in the hot water. The only comfort she felt for the next bit of time, as the maids seemed to be insistent on scrubbing her within an inch of her life. Sansa prattled on about the final preparations she'd made, oblivious to her suffering under the hands of the maids. She listed off the various dishes planned for the feast that night and any bits of idle gossip she'd picked up in the kitchens, and other things Alysanne couldn't be bothered to remember.

The maids rubbed rose scented oil into her hair and skin before drying her off. They wrapped her into a dressing gown and collected their things, leaving her to the mercy of Sansa. Sansa directed her to the chair in front of her vanity and grabbed a brush, starting to gently brush out her damp hair. Alysanne was thankful for it.

"I…" Sansa stopped, swallowing and seeming to think carefully of her words. "My father spoke to me today."

Alysanne met her eyes in the mirror. "Oh?"

She was quiet for a moment, and Alys was content to let her find her words. So rarely was Sansa at a loss for what to say. "The King wants to betrothe me to Joffrey," she finally said.

Alysanne's heart seemed to stop and her stomach dropped. Not Joffrey, Joffrey who was so cruel to Tommen and slaughtered his poor cats. Not Joffrey, who pinched at poor, gentle Myrcella and ripped her hair. Not Joffrey, who had cornered her and cursed her and called her dragonspawn and grabbed at her skirts-

Alysanne took a breath. Not today. Not on my wedding day.

She swallowed. "You would be queen," she said in response, not sure that she could say anything else.

Sansa stopped brushing and met her eyes in the mirror. "But it's Joffrey!" She said incredulously.

Alysanne looked down at her hands. "But it's Joffrey," she whispered.

Sansa placed her hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, how awful of me to bring this up on your wedding day of all days-"

Alysanne interrupted her and wheeled around, grabbing her forearms. "No! Please don't apologize." She looked up and met her eyes. "What will you do?"

Sansa sighed. "Father can't very well refuse him without reason, but he said he'll wait to make the betrothal official if I wish," she said, looking down at their hands.

"And do you? Wish?" Alys asked.

Sansa squeezed her hands. "I do. But I know not how long he can hold the King off." Sansa straightened her back and grabbed her shoulders, facing her back to the mirror. "But today isn't about that. You've always been a sister to me, but today you become one in name, and we've work to do!" Sansa gave her a smile, and Alys smiled back.

They spent the next few hours trying different styles, southron and northern, braids and twists, updos and letting it down. Arya and Myrcella soon joined them, and Alys was glad Myrcella decided to accept her invitation. Sweet Myrcella, who had been ever so kind to her in King's Landing and her favorite cousin by far. She was so overlooked by her mother and father, and Alys often wished that she could bring Cella north with her. They had grown close in King's Landing, and had kept up correspondence through the years. They discussed books they had read and other court matters, and Myrcella shared stories of Tommen and his progress.

Arya lounged on a chair and Myrcella had since gone to sit by her, suggesting different styles to Sansa. Alysanne turned to Myrcella, Sansa clicking her tongue and turning her head back to the mirror. Alysanne rolled her eyes. "Myrcella, has there been talk of betrothals for you?"

Myrcella only sighed and rested her head on her hands. "Nothing official. Father and Lord Arryn had suggested some, but mother disapproved of them," Myrcella said.

"All the better for you. I'll never marry," Arya said. Sansa and Alysanne only shared a look in the mirror, and before either of them could respond Lady Catelyn knocked and entered.

"Ladies, Princess," she nodded at Myrcella, "How goes the preparation?" she said as she approached, examining Sansa's work.

She had twisted and braided her hair, pinning half of it up on her head and letting the rest flow down her back. She twined red silk ribbons throughout, the red and the gold of her hair a banner of its own. A nod to the House she was soon to leave.

Lady Catelyn laid a gentle hand on her head, adjusting a stray piece of hair here and there. "Lovely, as always." She stepped back. "Shall we lace you into your dress?" Lady Catelyn suggested.

Sansa excitedly clasped her hands and went to grab it, and Myrcella pulled her to stand. Lady Catelyn laced her stays and Sansa held out the dress, Arya helping steady her as she stepped in. It was the first time she'd tried the finished product on, and she was more than pleased with it. She felt quite regal in it, with the way it accentuated her waist and made her look far more graceful than she often felt.

Sansa folded her hands together and held them under her chin. "Oh Alys! You look wonderful!" She said.

Myrcella walked over and adjusted her skirts before standing back. "You look lovely. I hope I have a dress half as beautiful when I marry," she grinned.

Lady Catelyn smiled as well. "Ladies, Princess, why don't you head down to the godswood? I would like a moment with Alysanne." The three girls left together, chattering excitedly as they closed the door behind them. Alys faced back to the mirror, admiring the dress more.

Lady Catelyn stepped up behind her and placed her hands on her shoulders, meeting her eyes in the reflection. "How do you feel?" She asked.

"Beautiful. Nervous," Alysanne giggled giving Lady Catelyn a slight smile.

"I was too, before my own wedding. Of course, I hardly knew Ned. Robb loves you, and you him. Don't be nervous, dear girl," She gave her shoulders a slight squeeze.

Alysanne nodded, and Lady Catelyn fixed how her hair laid on her shoulders. "It seems only yesterday you were riding through the gates. You were such a small thing, and so polite." Alys adjusted to better see Lady Catelyn. "You've grown into a beautiful woman, and a fine young lady. I'm quite proud of you," Lady Catelyn finished.

Alysanne was surprised to find herself tearing up. "Thank you, Lady Catelyn, for everything," Alys said.

Lady Catelyn tutted, and wiped at her tears. "Don't cry now, your eyes will go all red," She said, as she pulled her into a hug. They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Lady Catelyn pulled back, fixing Alysanne's hair once more. "That will be your father now. I'll see you down there, sweet girl," Lady Catelyn placed a gentle hand on her cheek before she glided over to the door, giving her one last smile before leaving.

Her father entered, a box clutched in his hands, and she turned back around, not wishing to meet his eyes. She waited for him to break the silence, and when he didn't she bit her tongue and greeted him. "Father," she looked up to find him staring at her with a mournful look on his face.

"Alysanne, I-" he stopped, gesturing to the seats and he sat down, waiting for her to take a seat before he continued. "I brought you something," he said, handing her the box.

She opened it gently and found a red cloak, a Lannister maiden cloak she assumed. She lifted it out and found a sundry of jewels and trinkets beneath it. There was a necklace with the Lannister crest, one much like Cersei wore only less…Cersei. Among other things, there was a beautiful necklace with amethysts dangling off of it, a golden chained hairnet dotted with rubies, and a dainty pearl bracelet. Does he think to win me over with baubles? She looked at him quizzically before looking back down, continuing to gently sift through the assortment.

"They were...they were your mothers," he explained.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "My mothers?"

He nodded. "Yes, I thought that perhaps you should have them," he paused and took a steadying breath, "I bought the amethyst necklace for her after she told me she was with child. She was always fond of amethysts, and the color lavender. She wore the two of them often," he said.

An odd assortment of facts, but she'd take what she could get from him. She couldn't remember if he's ever spoken so much about her mother to her all in one go. Perhaps he feels guilty for the other night.

Alysanne picked up the amethyst necklace and he gestured to it, a silent offer to help her put it on. They both stood and he laid it gently on her neck and she touched it, thankful to have something of her mothers for that night.

He turned and grabbed the cloak, unfurling it for her to see. It was heavy, and ostentatious in it's display of golden thread and rubies. "This was your mothers as well, the same one I placed over her shoulders," he swung it around her shoulders, fastening it around her throat.

The silk felt cold against her neck, and the Lannister cloak was heavy, weighing her down. She turned back around and he took a step back, looking at her. "You look so much like her," he said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why now? Why tell me this, give me these things tonight and not when I asked days ago?"

He took another breath. "I should not have said those things to you, I should not treat you like I have," he offered as an explanation.

But why now? She looked down, fiddling with the sleeve of her dress. "Can we not do this tonight, father? Please?"

Her father reluctantly nodded, and offered her his arm. "Come, Alysanne. I believe we've a wedding to attend."

They made the walk to the godswood in silence, and she was thankful for it. She didn't have much to say to her father, despite his sudden peace offering. She couldn't help but feel suspicious, curious as to why he offered these things now instead of several days ago, instead of years ago. The regrets of an old man on his only childs wedding day, she thought bitterly to herself.

They approached the godswood and her stomach tied itself in knots. It was dark out, and the path was lit with candles. Like something out of a song, the child in her thought.

Alys was thankful that they were to be married not in a Sept, but before the heart tree. She didn't know if she would have the patience for a long ceremony, and the northern ceremony was so much shorter. Lord Stark had offered to have another ceremony in the Light of the Seven, but she had declined. The north was her home now, and she would follow their traditions. She couldn't be seen as viewing the northern ways as lesser, especially if she wanted the respect of the northern lords.

They made the long walk to the heart tree, and as they turned the corner she saw Robb. All at once her breath was gone and he was the only thing she could focus on. She forgot the lords and ladies crammed together, she forgot the scowling face of the King, and she forgot the weight of her father's arm. All there was was Robb, and his bright hair that almost matched the weirwood leaves, and his blue eyes that so reminded her of the waters that surrounded Casterly Rock.

They came to a stop, and Alysanne couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She spotted Grey Wind sitting silently behind Robb, and was grateful that he was allowed to leave the kennels at least for this. He's a part of Robb, and soon to be a part of me as well. Lord Stark's voice broke the silence. "Who comes? Who comes before the gods?"

Jaime cleared his throat. "Alysanne of House Lannister comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Robb stepped forward. "Robb of House Stark, the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I claim her. Who gives her?" He said, only a slight tremor of nervousness in his words.

"Jaime of House Lannister, her father," Jaime faced towards her, but her eyes remained on Robbs.

Lord Eddard looked at her, a fond smile on his face. "Lady Alysanne, do you take this man?" He said gently.

"I take this man," she responded. It was the most sure of anything she'd ever been in her life.

She walked forward and took Robbs hand, and together they knelt before the heart tree. She bowed her head and prayed. She prayed for a long marriage, a peaceful marriage. She prayed for children, for a large family of her own that she'd never had. She prayed for the family she did have, in hopes that perhaps things would change. She prayed for the family she found here in Winterfell, the family that she was now a part of. She prayed for their happiness.

Robb squeezed her hand and she looked up, his eyes already on her. He gave her a sweet smile and they rose together. He faced her and reached to remove her cloak, his hands brushing against her shoulders and sending a shiver through her, one that she hoped came across as her simply being cold.

He carefully folded the Lannister cloak before handing it off to her father, turning to Lord Eddard for the Stark one. He draped the Stark cloak around her, and it was heavy and warm and right.

They stared at each other a moment, processing the fact that they were now married in the eyes of gods and men. Married. His smile widened before he took her face in his hands and kissed her as if the King and the entire court and his lords bannermen weren't standing just there. Her cheeks flushed at the improprietyof it, and she heard the booming laughter of the King and quiet chuckles of the other lords. He pulled away, a stupid grin on his face and she was sure her's matched. Sansa and Lady Catelyn were wiping at tears, and Ser Addam was laughing quietly, a faint blush on his face and he wouldn't quite meet her eyes. Her grandfather, who had arrived a few days after the King, only pursed his lip in disapproval.

Before she could return her attention to Robb, the ground disappeared from under her and she let out a small shriek, Robb having swept her up in his arms. He started out towards the great hall, the rest of the Lords and Ladies following close behind.

"Robb! Put me down, you great fool! It isn't proper," she laughed, smacking his arm.

"It's tradition! We can't anger the gods, can we?" He laughed with her.

He carried her all along the path and through the doors of the great hall. He never once put her down and only laughed harder at her protests, half hearted that they were. By the time they'd reached the high table, her cheeks and belly hurt from laughing. He finally put her down and pulled back her chair for her, taking a seat next to her in the center of the high table. They settled and he reached out and grabbed a glass, raising it to her. "Lady Wife," he said.

She grabbed hers, raising it to him in turn. "Lord Husband," she replied, quite enjoying the way he says Lady Wife. For that is what she was, his wife. Perhaps a favorite among the many things she had been called.

She looked around at who had joined them at the table and was disappointed to see Jon had yet again been barred. I had hoped that Lady Catelyn would overlook it for just this one night. He is as much my family as the rest of them.

The meal was served and she picked at it through the night, much too busy accepting gifts and well wishes from visiting lords who wished to curry favor with the future Lady of Winterfell. But oh, had Sansa outdone herself with the selection of food. There was venison and meat pies, thick stews and lamprey pie, aurochs and boar and roasted goose, countless roasted vegetables, spiced wine and ale and ciders, lemon cakes and honey cakes, and that was only the food she happened to glance at. She was sure there was much more, and made a note to thank both Sansa and the cook.

Soon everyone had eaten their fill and the tables were cleared for dancing. Robb clasped her hand and they took to the floor first, opening it up for everyone else. She only got to dance with him one turn before she was whisked away by Ser Addam, and then Theon demanded a turn, then Bran and then Jon and even little Rickon.

The Northern Lords asked for turns too, of course. She danced with jolly Lord Manderly, who laughed with her as they spoke of her first visit to White Harbor. There was Lord Karstark and Lord Umber, both of who seemed unsure of her, but she let it bother her none at all, at least for this one night. Lord Bolton took a turn as well, and she found herself the most discomforted by him. He'll be nigh on impossible to win over, I feel.

She stepped away, going to take a rest at the table where Robb was sitting and japing with Theon, when Joffrey blocked her way. "Sweet cousin, won't you allow me a dance?" He asked, hand held out expectantly and a sneer on his face.

She looked around, and couldn't find an appropriate reason to turn him down, nor could she manage to catch Robb's eye. She reluctantly placed her hand in his, and he practically dragged her to him. He was already standing a tad too close, his hand a touch farther down that she would like. "You look beautiful tonight, cousin," he said, a smile on his face as he looked her up and down.

She steeled herself. "Thank you, my prince."

He gripped her tighter. "How many times have I told you to call me Joffrey?" He snarled at her. "It's a shame mother didn't get her way, we could have finished what we started when you last visited."

Her eyes went wide. "Joffrey, please just-"

"Your grace. If I may steal my good-daughter from you?" a voice interrupted.

She turned to see Lord Stark standing there. The usual, solemn look on his face, but Alys could see the hard steel in his eyes. "Yes, yes," Joffrey waved a hand and stalked off to torment Tommen, most like.

She took Lord Stark's hand, but he was the first to speak. "Is he always so rough with you?" He asked.

She hesitated, and decided he deserved the truth. "Usually more so, my Lord," she replied, voice hushed.

His frown only deepened. "Robert wants to betrothe him to Sansa."

She nodded. "Yes, she mentioned that earlier," she hesitated again, "Lord Stark, if I may?" He gestured for her to continue. "He's cruel, my Lord. He would do Sansa no good," she told him honestly.

He sighed. "That's what I had feared. I'll hold him off as long as I can, until another betrothal can be secured, perhaps."

"That would be wise, my Lord," she replied.

Lord Stark looked down at her, a small smile growing on his face. "I'm thankful you're a part of our family now, Lady Alys," he said to her.

"As am I, Lord Stark," she returned his smile.

He looked over her shoulder, towards the back entrance of the hall, and his eyebrows rose in recognition. "There is someone awaiting you over there, Alys," he gestured towards the door.

There stood Arya, peaking around the corner. She waved her over and Alysanne went to thank Lord Stark, but he'd already gone, weaving his way back towards Lady Catelyn.

She made her way to Arya, who promptly grabbed her hand and tugged her along. "Arya! What are you-"

Arya shushed her. "Come along! Hurry, if you want to avoid the bedding!"

Alysanne smiled. So they had found a way to avoid the bedding after all. She was thankful, as she hadn't wanted the King leering at her, or Joffrey's hands up her skirt, or any other drunken lords grasping at her.

They began to run to her room, giggling to each other and trying to remain as quiet as they could as Arya led her through servants corridors and small hallways. Arya has come in handy today after all. They came to a stop in front of Robbs' room, and it took her a moment to remember that it was their room now, not just Robbs. She went to thank Arya, but like her father, she had already begun to walk away. Arya spun around to shoot her a cheeky, before disappearing around the corner completely.

She walked in to find Robb already there. He stood as she entered, and suddenly her Aunt Cersei's words from earlier that day, her words from before she had left King's Landing all those years ago, came rushing back to her. She looked around, refusing to meet his eyes. A small table caught her eye, a pitcher of wine sitting atop it. Wine, Cersei said wine.

Alysanne strided over, making a beeline for the wine as Robb watched on, a confused look on his face. "Are you alright? Are you…nervous?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not," she replied, perhaps a bit harshly. She walked over to the small table and went to pour herself a goblet of wine.

"Alys- gods, you're shaking!"

She scowled at him over her shoulder. "I am not," she insisted, a touch haughtily, as her hand shook and she nearly poured wine over the table and herself.

"Seven hells," he muttered, as moved towards her and took the goblet from her hand, setting it down gently on the table. She bit her lip as he looked at her, concern writ on his face. "Come," he said, guiding her to the bench in front of his mirror.

He began taking the pins out of her hair and gently unwound the ribbon, setting them carefully on the vanity. He picked them all out, feeling her hair for anymore before picking up the hairbrush. "What are you doing?" she asked him softly.

He gave her a bashful smile. "I used to brush Sansa's hair when she was upset or nervous and mother was too busy. I thought it might help?" She nodded and let him continue. When her hair was brushed out he helped her stand, gesturing to her dress. "Would you like some help? With the laces?" He asked nervously.

She nodded again, taking her necklace off first and setting it carefully on the table before moving her hair over her shoulder. He gently unlaced her dress and she stepped out of it, setting it over a chair before he moved to her stays.

His hands brushed against her skin, low on her back and the chills this time couldn't be mistaken for cold. Her stays were discarded and she turned back around to face him, crossing her arms over herself and thankful that she still had her shift on.

They both start to speak at the same time.

"Robb, I-"

"Alys-"

They stared at each other and laughed. She gestured for him to go first. "We don't have to do…anything tonight. You don't want to, and I won't force you," he said firmly.

"No!" She said a bit abruptly, her face going red. "No, I want to. I'm just…nervous is all," her voice went quieter, "I don't want it to hurt."

Robb grabbed her hand. "I won't hurt you, I will never hurt you."

She looked up at him. "I've never… have you?" She asked, her face somehow growing even redder.

His face reddened as well. "No, but Theon explained how…it…is supposed to work."

She choked out a laugh. "By the gods! We're doomed!" A grin broke out on his face and he began to laugh as well. There it is. It's just Robb, how could I be scared of Robb?

He pulled her hand over to the bed and they sat on the edge. He kissed her hand, and she's reminded of the first time he did so. She began to laugh again. "Do you remember when I returned from King's Landing? And you kissed my hand?"

He groaned and she laughed harder. "Why would you remind me of that now?"

She deepened her voice. "My Lady," she gave her best imitation of him, "you had never referred to me as my lady!" She laughed harder.

He looked at her and his laughter slowly quieted, the fond smile remaining on his face. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're so very beautiful," he whispered.

He kissed her then, softly at first. His hands twined through her hair and it deepened, her hand going to clutch at the front of his shirt. He pulled back and looked at her, looked into her eyes, before kissing her once more. Deeper this time, his tongue running across her lip. He pulled her into his lap, and her hands went into his hair.

His hands fell from her hair to her neck and brushed against her arms. She shivered at the light touch, and soon his hands were crawling up her thighs and under her shift and between her legs and-

Oh.

Perhaps, just maybe, her Aunt Cersei was wrong.