Chapter 5: Betrayals

"I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be"- Viserys

Marylean

Darkness enveloped the sky, marking the end of yet another day in the battle torn region of the Riverlands. Deep in the heart of the lands, a few leagues North East from Riverrun and South of the Red Fork, the Kneeling Man Inn was situated.

The dilapidated wooden building served as proof that the battles weighed heavily upon the common people; a thatched roof provided little cover from the elements and the ratty, worn down clothes of the even more worn out Innkeeper, ensured that the price for a night's stay cost little to no coin.

Upon entering their room at the back of the building, Marylean blanched at the sudden wave of unwanted memories that attacked her. The space was compact, barely big enough for the two small beds on opposite ends of an otherwise barren room; it reminded her too much of her life long gone, in Essos, on the run from anyone that resembled a person from Westeros.

These quarters would've been what could only be described as heaven compared to the numerous shitholes that she had lived in. Sometimes in the stables with the animals, others fighting against the elements. All those encounters had found her with Rhayna, huddled close to Daena, the only mother figure she had ever known.

Now, she only had Darion as a companion, a man that had brute strength, but was prone to drinking. He had said nothing after two days of riding, no matter her attempts at conversation and provided no comfort after their witness of a grueling massacre, but he had gotten them this far North without anyone detecting them For that she should be thankful, but found that for the time being only sorrow remained.

Harsh thumps became louder with each step he took, before he squeezed through the door with one lonesome trunk that carried her most important possessions; letters, a dress, herbs and a few pieces of jewelry to be bartered as they traveled. With a heave he threw the mostly empty trunk on the bed, watched as it fell, before he sank low on it and ran a hand through his black and white speckled beard, clearly defeated.

With soft, cautionary steps she walked towards the trunk, picked it up from the dirty wooden floor and set it down on the foot of her bed.

"There's a brothel nearby."

When he spoke his voice was gruff from disuse. She glanced at him before she reached into the trunk and took out a small golden bangle and an earring.

"This should cover it, have the Innkeeper send a bottle of wine when you pass him." Darion nodded to her as he passed and took the bangle and earring with him. After he had closed the door Marylean sank down on the bed, bone weary and beyond tired.

They had a traitor in their midst, of that she was certain. Daena would've never been found out otherwise, but she was tired, too tired to ponder with a clear head who the rat was that had outed them. Eddard Stark immediately came to mind. The Northern Lord had absolutely no reason to protect them and he had been taken captive. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to believe that he had traded their whereabouts in order to gain freedom once more. It would've been what she would do.

In truth, her contempt for the Starks stemmed from a deep seated hatred of a feud older than she herself and had simmered over the years, ready to erupt at any given second.

If it weren't for a Stark bitch that had seduced her father Rhaegar, the late Baratheon drunk wouldn't have had a reason to start a war. Her mother and brother wouldn't have been brutally murdered along with most of the Targaryens.

She wouldn't have had to run from a senile uncle who sold his sister for an army and would either see her as his wife or have her head on a pike in order to 'purify' the Targaryen bloodline. She wouldn't have to stay away from Dorne, a city close to her heart, in fear of being caught. She wouldn't have had to travel to the barren white wastelands of the cold North to the Wall where she still had family.

A sigh escaped her as the numerous fantasies of "what could have been" swirled through her mind, like the sea on a stormy night. When her head hit the old, dusty pillow, sleep claimed her, in all its hellish glory.

It was a few hours later when Darion came stumbling into the room, reeking of whores and drink. The sun had yet to rise, but Marylean was wide awake, ushering the brute into his bed. It was not the first time something like this had happened.

Usually such an occurrence walked hand in hand with their travels, but it was the first time that Marylean found herself having to take care of the man.

"There is no way you'll sleep past noon. When the sun comes out, we'll move out." Marylean huffed in irritation as she finally managed to divest him of his boots and shirt.

"And don't you for one moment think that I'll be quiet after I had to put up with this. It will serve you well to remember a pounding headache when you frequent another brothel. Damn fool." Marylean complained to his snoring form. She was about to turn around, intent on laying down again when she saw it; a small piece of paper that had no doubt escaped from his person.

Gingerly she picked it up, not caring that she broached his personal, private life in opening it as curiosity won over.

"Keep eyes and ears to the ground, shadow the sun. Whisper upon the return".

Varys. She knew that writing as well as she knew her name and those cryptic words couldn't have been clearer, even if someone bellowed it from a blow horn. Darion and Varys were corresponding, probably had been even before they found him, a semi-corpse near their door.

The knife in her stomach twisted as everything suddenly came to light; the reason why he had been their shadow all these years and the reason they were outed. Varys had been all too eager to support her uncle and aunt in Essos and had no doubt chosen their side. Darion was a bird and a spineless drunk who had betrayed Daena.

Bile rose in her throat and she immediately covered her mouth. Stabbed in the back by the man that had protected them all these years, because she refused to dance to the whims of a Spider.

She glanced at the snoring fox again and steeled her heart against any trace of sadness and compassion she might have had. Anger she knew well and she could feel it burning in the pit of her belly, ready to erupt at any moment. The knife at his belt glimmered in the moonlight, shiny, new and expensive by the looks of it - price paid for a life that ended too soon.

...

It was well past midday, approaching dawn when they stopped for a rest. The denseness of the forest south of the Blue Fork had proved challenging to travel swiftly, but in the wake of stumbling upon Lannister survivors, they opted to forgo the Kingsroad. Darion had immediately turned their horse around and opted for the thick foliage to conceal them when he caught wind of the news and after a day of mostly walking, they had succumbed to their bodies' desire; rest for themselves and the horse near a small river.

Marylean watched the man, sitting opposite from where she was leaning against the bark, with mirth in her hazel eyes as he drank from his flagon. "It is not an easy feat to deceive someone born into deception, Darion." The man grunted as she spoke, clearly unimpressed by her ramblings as he took another long swig.

"Which is why I have to commend you on your ability to live in virtual silence for more than a decade. I always thought you to be dumb, but that is not the case, is it?" He glanced at her again, a dawning realization appearing in his eyes, staying still and frozen with his flagon held halfway to his mouth. Marylean slowly walked towards him, eyebrow arched and watching with cold eyes.

"Your fatal mistake was keeping that letter Darion, and thinking that you can outsmart a girl born into lies. Did you reveal Daena because she knew you were a bird for the Spider? Or because he gave the order? More than likely the latter given the shiny new blade on your person. See, you are a simple creature, always with your flagon at hand. I suppose I'll never know why you kept me alive though."

Marylean crouched in front of him as she watched his eyes go wider, hands flying to his neck and chest as he struggled to gulp in precious air. "I hope you enjoyed that drink, Rat, for it will be your last one."

She smirked as she watched his panicked eyes pleading with her. She reached towards his belt and took the hilt of his shiny new knife and tucked it into her boot, before she stood up and looked down at him. "Enjoy hell, you spineless swine, for you seemed to have enjoyed Wolf's bane quite a lot."

With a flourish, she turned around towards the horse, abandoning all rational thought as the thick forest welcoming her with open arms.

Robb

Robb watched the sun as it cast a golden glow over the Riverlands, Grey Wind at his side. He had come to the edge of camp away from the talks of battle and maps that taunted him, to clear his head.

As always his thoughts wandered to his late father, the man he will always look up to even if he was stolen from them by the rule of a right royal prick, and wondered if he would agree with the course of action he had taken. He had sent more than 2000 men to their deaths knowingly seven days prior. Fathers, brothers, cousins and children, all corpses for the capture of one man.

He hated Jaime Lannister all the more for that and had to steel himself a few times not to rise the sword of justice to the Kingslayer's neck. The fact that he still hadn't caught wind of his sisters' well-being had caused dread to settle well into his bones; as if it had been a lost child returning home. Bran and Rickon were too young to run a castle and a region all by themselves, and he felt ashamed for thrusting such a big responsibility upon the shoulders of his crippled brother.

If only Jon had been there. Jon would've excelled at running the castle, but he knew that was foolish thoughts. Jon would've been here, at his side, calling him out on wrong decisions and served as the voice of reason when he felt like he was losing himself. It had happened, amidst battle, the first taste of blood and a frenzy started. Jon would know how to tame the beast that was fighting its way to the surface and be the shoulder he needed to lean on when his burdens became too much, especially in the midsts of losing their father.

The news that had brought him to his knees had arrived exactly two days ago. Turmoil, defeat, every single emotion had warred inside him and forced him to shed the last sliver of innocence and boyhood. He was a man now, sworn protector of his family, with ice in his veins, bound by honour: he will kill every Lannister. The silly dreams he had been having certainly did not have a place in this stark, naked reality of brutal injustice.

The rustling of leaves broke him from the dangerous path his thoughts had wandered on. A tall young man with sandy brown hair appeared at his side and looked out at the golden landscape, a mischievous glint, concealing the sadness in his eyes.

"If you stay like that long enough, no girl would ever touch you again, whether a lord or not. Celibate for the rest of your life!" Robb turned his head to Theon and inspected his face, noticing a deep red hand print upon his left cheek.

"It would seem as if you will also venture into the life of an eunuch," Robb said as he eyed the angry red flesh.

A scowl appeared upon his friends face as he cradled his cheek, before his eyes shone again. "Maybe a crazy cunt is just what you need to get your head out of your arse. Come with me, I have a present for you."

The feeling of dread intensified as he followed his friend through camp. The woman who had raised her hand to his friend did not came off unscathed he knew and he prepared himself for the worst as he entered his tent, Grey Wind and Theon close at his heels.

The ice in his veins seemed to run even colder as he was met with the sight before him.

In the middle of a tent, hands tied to the pole behind her back, a woman sat, dark golden hair in disarray. Her slim arms were bare, the red dress clearly not a northern style, skin a few shades darker than the pale Northerners'.

"Found this beauty while hunting. Put up quite a fight, might I add. She had a trunk with her, but I didn't find anything of import. The Lannister's really did get their asses handed to them if they are sending cunts to do their spying," Theon said as he kneeled next to the girl on the ground and forced her head in his direction. Her face still shadowed by a dark golden brown waterfall, kept her response a mystery.

The smirk on Theon's face grew wider as he looked at Robb once more, groping at her harshly. "Spitfire. Would be one hell of a ride if you want her."

"Enough."

The command he gave was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough warning to assert his authority. Smirk gone Theon stood, forcing the girl to stand as well, before he took his place at Robb's side. She definitely fitted the posture of a Lannister he noted, haughty and regal, despite her slight frame.

Distaste immediately took refuge in his stomach as he came to a stop in front of her, head still cast downwards. "Look at me."He commanded in a low voice.

At first he thought she hadn't heard him, but then her head rose. The purple bruises that marred her delicate face did nothing to distract from her obvious beauty. She looked at him head on, and she did not look like a person defeated, but like someone with a clear mission.

A small pointed nose led to small rosy lips with a prominent bow, pressed tightly together. His eyes were immediately drawn down, past her slender neck and fine collar bones, to her rapidly rising chest as Grey Wind emitted a low growl.

"I will not be compromised by you Northman and I'd advise you take me to the Lord of this establishment immediately, since your friend is too incompetent to understand what I'm saying," came a surprisingly clear voice, devoid of any trace of fear. The only thing betraying her was her glancing at Grey Wind every so often. At once Robb glanced at her face again, a spy who did not know who he was. Something didn't add up.

"I am Lord Stark, son of the late Eddard Stark and warden in the North. Who are you and why do you demand to speak with me?"

Her already large eyes flickered to the tent flaps as another person took residence inside.

"Robb, what is this, who is she?" He spared a glance at his mother who walked towards him, weighed down by grief, Theon slipping away and leaving them with the girl.

"Marylean Targaryen, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, Lady Stark." He saw recognition cross his mother's face as the girl spoke, even tied up she still had the gall to speak out of turn.

Anger flashed in his eyes when he heard that name. She was the reason his father was in the dungeons in the capitol. If Eddard hadn't compromised his safety to help her, his father could've been back, alive.

"Why are you-"

"Untie the girl Robb, let us speak in the morning." Robb glanced at his mother then back at the girl. Catelyn Stark, the strongest woman he knew, pleaded with him. Swiftly he turned and cut her bonds, uncaring of the rope burns on her wrists.

"She can bathe, Mother, but I want her back in this tent before the sun has completely set. We will decide what to do with her at the counsel meeting later tonight."

Having said those last words, he stormed out of the tent, Grey Wind close behind. Thunder rumbled in the distance as he went to seek solace in the woods.