"Fear cuts deeper than swords" - Arya Stark

Chapter 9

Battle weary, bruised and dirty the Young Wolf sank into the hot tub with a quiet hiss, mindfull of the few cuts he had sustained during their last battle. It had been quick, effortless even. The Lannister's had tried a few times to retrieve Tywin's son, but their efforts where futile. Backed by the Tully soldier's, the Northern army had grown even more fierce. Still it felt, Robb decided as he leaned back and closed his eyes, that he was nowhere near achieving his main goal: his sisters safely back home.

The rustle of the tent flaps alerted him to someone's presence, but still he kept his eyes closed. Olivar knew he was bathing and his mother was not here. Must be Grey Wind he surmized quickly and let the thought go, when he felt it. Something hot in his ear and a cool sensation against his neck.

"You know, being seen in such a state may lead your men to believe you are just a mortal man and not the feared Young Wolf" a husky voice whispered in his ear. Her freezing hands travelled from where it rested on his neck over his shoulders before sensualy sliding dowm his chest. "I have heard all the tales you know" she chuckled as she continued her trek downwards "how intimidating you are" still downwards, disappearing into the water "bloodthirsty, ferocious," at his navel she found a cloth and proceeded with her tantalizing task of bathing him. "Some say you even turn into a beast" a playful nip at his ear followed her last statement. All at once, her hands disappeared as well as the warmth behind him, prompting Robb in turn to sit up.

"I just had to see for myself" she finished, now standing in front of him. The white nightgown that she seemed to be so fond of had been lightly loosened at the chest and gave Robb a magnificent view of her ample bosom. He had not expected this, to see her, here after he had stormed out of her tent nearly a fortnight ago. After he returned from the Maester, who had confirmed that the ointment applied to his wound was to ward of infection, Robb had steered clear of Marylean Targaryen. A strange mixture of guilt and anger usually accompanied an encounter or thought of her which only lead to him making impulsive decisions. Something that he could not afford to do given how high the stakes are.

Still, here she was, virgin like in her white gown, and fuck, she was stepping into the water, still fully dressed. Dumbfounded Robb awkwardly made space as she stradled his legs before sinking into the bath. The water level rised in accord with his hearbeat and he found himself glad that the only light provided was from that of a few candles placed haphazardly in the tent. Never before had he met a woman as brazen and frustrating as Marylean Targaryen and some part of him yearned to give in to his flesh and have her here, in this tub, pliant in his arms.

"Why are you here Princess?" he croaked, trying to think of Nan naked. It didn't work. He was growing hard and judging by the look on Marylean's face, she knew exactly what effect she had on him. Scooting closer, the vixen in his lap pressed their chests together. From this angle, all it would take is one thrust to quench the heat that had pooled low in his belly. Instead he gripped the edges of the tub, with both hands. Hard.

"I'd say what I want is rather obvious Robb". White knucled. Naked Nan, Naked Nan, na- "I want you to make me yours, my King" Robb's reply became stuck in his throat as, on her last husky drawl, Marylean sank down on him. It felt like heaven. Had he been the immortal beast, the famed Young Wolf, he would have told her to leave. But, Robb was just a man and seeing the bliss on his captive's face and her fingers digging into his shoulders, all thoughts of honour flew out the tent.

Surrendering the death grip he had, he hungrily sought out her flesh and began to move. Theirs was a tempestuous dance, both taking what they needed from each other. Robb didn't care about propriety or gentleness, his only concern was fulfilling her wish. Making her his. Water splashed over the side as they danced in tandem, sighs and soft groans the only other sounds filling the tent.

Robb, as he looked at the woman going wild, for him, in his arms found that he didn't care about the damn war, playing a game older than himself or the politics involved in ruling a kingdom. All of that faded away to this moment, this heat, seeing her head thrown back in passion and having her cling to him like he was the only thing keeping her anchored. Much to his chagrin, he realized, he wanted to see her happy and ease her burdens, not add to it. Renewing his effort in their fervent love making Robb leaned his head on her shoulder and held on to her for dear life, knowing that his next words would both make and break him. "You-" thrust "are" his Princess, upon hearing his voice slowed down slightly. She was breathless he realized, but oh so alive "free to go" a roll of his hips emphasized his statement and had her mouth shape into a silent 'O'. Stopping completely he smoothed her damp hair from her face. Rosy cheeks, big doe eyes; he would miss her, but he cannot bear the though of having to use her as a pawn. Something that will inevitably happen should she stay.

"You are free to go Marylean. Finish your journey. I will have a horse and a few escorts ready for you come morning. You are no longer my captive, you are no longer a pawn, go and find your family" the young king finished breathlessly. He was still not finished, they were not finished for the night, but he needed to have her as a freed woman, not his hostage.

"Robb, I'm, I'm, Robb I'm bleeding" Marylean spluttered. Alarmed and confused, Robb looked down and was met with a horrific sight. A thick river of blood gushed out of a gash in Marylean's side. Within seconds the whole tub was red with it. Panicked, scared Robb tried to stop the flow, had pressed his hand tightly to the wound. "Marylean, hold on, we are…" his sentance trailed off. Marylean was nowhere in sight and his hands were drenched in her blood.

With a gasp, the ruler of the North awoke to find himself in the tub, water cold to the touch. It was a dream. Disturbing and it had left him breathless, but it was still just a dream. Marylean was not here. Her blood was not on his hands. Sansa and Arya were still in King's landing, his brothers safe at home and his mother on her way to Renly. All was as it had been before he closed his eyes. Shaking his head, trying to clear the fog, Robb rose and quickly toweled himself off.

He should have realized it was a dream, he mused, when the girl had called him Robb instead of Northman. She had never before called himself by his name and he doubted that she ever will. Not that he blamed her he thought while dressing. His mother had warned him that he was being unnecessarily harsh to their captive. What had prompted Catelyn Stark to stand up for the girl, he had no clue. Mayhaps she was missing her children and needed someone to mother he tried to reason with himself. What would his father have done had he been in this situation? To that, Robb knew the answer. Sinking down into a chair at his desk, the defeated man took out the dog-eared letter from his drawer. The last letter he will ever receive from the man he had tried (and failed) to be all his life.

Robb

I write this to you from King's Landing. Recently I have uncovered unsettling news. News I am sure will reach your ears in due course. My worry now is that this letter might be intercepted. I pray that it is not the case.

16 Summers ago, I stumbled upon a discovery that will change the 7 Kingdoms as we know it. The Gods know that I have pondered my decisions that I made then every single day and I regret them deeply. I have acted without honour and should have offered protection instead of exile. During the sack of King's Landing a castle maid managed to escape with the youngest daughter of Rhaegar and Ellia Martell. When I did manage to seek them out I sent them away. Who knows what the Lannisters would have done had they found out. I could have kept her. The Princess. Marylean Targaryen she was called. She looked more Dornish than Targaryen. Claiming another bastard would have been easy. Your mother would have eventually forgiven me and the babe would have had a stable home instead of a life of fear on the run. That decision, my son, haunts me to this day and I often wondered had I not been bound by the promise I made Jon's mother, what would have become of your brother.

Nevertheless, I have been granted a chance to rectify some of my wrongs.We Starks are men of honour. By honour we shall live and by the sword we shall die.

The Targaryen Princess is in King's Landing. Life has been cruel to her amd even though I want nothing more than to come home with your two sisters immediately, I first need to ensure that she will be safe and out of harms way. There is family at the Wall awaiting her. I first need to ensure her safe passage and that not a soul knows of her whereabouts.

I have not said all I wish to say, but please believe me that when I see you again, all shall be revealed.

It is an honour to be the Stark-childrens father.

-Eddard Stark

How many times had he read this letter? The Final Letter of Ned Stark and all his father could speak about was guilt and ensuring a stranger's safety. Anger simmered underneath the surface and yet, Robb knew that it was misdirected. His father had often times sent letters upon their journey on the King's Road, most of them about trivial things. Robb knew that he and the rest of his family was loved by Eddard. His Father may have been a stoic man of few words, but they all knew they were dearly loved and had grown up without any lack.

Still, Robb could not help but be angry at the hostage sleeping a few tents away. His Father might have made it. They might all have been together as a family. If only she had not been there to delay their departure. He wanted her to hurt, to feel the pain he felt when his father passed away, make her understand that she was partly to blame and yet….And yet Robb knew that these feelings were irrational. He knew that she had lost both mother and father before she could even remember them. He had heard from his mother how they drifted around, what had happened when they had gone back to King's Landing after their exile in Essos and that the woman who had raised her was burned alive at stake. She bad known pain and suffering all her life and Eddard Stark had felt that he was to blame for that.

With a heavy heart Robb closed his eyes and let go. Let go of his irrational anger and hostility towards someone that had not caused his father's death. Had in no way even contributed to his father's death. When he opened his eyes, all vestiges of boyhood had left amd he suddenly saw as a man should see. As a King must see and as his father had seen. Carefully he folded up the letter from his father and placed it back in the drawer. Rummaging around, he finally pulled out the parchment he had started to address to Dorne, the one where he had demanded a Dornish army in exchange for their Princess and burned it by candlelight. Transfixed he watched as the paper made a magnificent flame before being reduced to naught but ash and cinders, a charred smelled lingering in the air and, for the first time since his march began Robb knew he made the right decision.

Grey Wind

A pale moon hung low in the night sky, casting an omnious glow upon Westeros. Leagues South of the Red Fork close to Riverrun, The King in the North's army could be found, silent except for a few stray conversations between fellow soldiers. And this one. Perhaps the strangest of them all. In the middle of the camp, sheltered in a cozy tent, Grey Wind lay wide awake, listening intently to the girl his Master bade him to look after. She was a curious thing, the Wolf had surmized quickly when they met and her moods seemed to change as often as the direction of the wind; one moment she was frightened of him, the next she was stroking his fur and cooing in his ears. A very strange creature indeed and he knew his Master also shared his conflicting opinion.

His Master, Grey Wind huffed and stretched his legs. The bed he laid in was soft and warm, almost stifling, but he would rather endure the heat than hear the Creature's teeth shatter, another peculiar thing he had noticed about her -other than her browner complexion- was that she seemed to be freezing when the moon rised. Master and his family did not do that at home. Master barely did anything now other than fight -not that Grey Wind was complaining- and share words with the other humans. And, since he was given the task of looking after Creature at night, he barely even saw him unless Master came to Creature's quarters. The last time had been nearly a fortnight ago- he knew because the moon told him so- and then his human had his hands wrapped around Creature's neck while speaking to her in his angry voice. That must be why water leaked from her eyes so frequently the Wolf decided. She was sad that she had angered Master. With that he could sympathize. He too had angered him once, long ago when he was still a pup and had felt sorrow and shame over making his human angry. Truth be told, he did not actively listen in on their conversation. He rarely did unless he knew he was being spoken to. Understanding his Master's language was not that challenging, he had caught on quickly, but he found it rather dull and boring most of the time. Thus, he had only perked up when he heard his name and received his new assignment. Watch after Creature.

"...and there we were, that is Rhayna and Me, on the back of the cart with Daena chasing after us. Needless to say she quickly realized the importance of teaching us how to read" his bed companion droned on in the background. Another thing he had noticed about Creature was that she liked to speak. None of his Human's family ever spoke that much and fast. Not even the little ones. Especially not the one that was the Master of his own white brother, Ghost. He barely ever spoke unless it was with the young ones or Grey Wind's own human. Sighing he strained his ears, trying to catch wind of anything amiss in camp. Snores he heard aplenty, but except for that, the only sounds were the distant flow of the river Trident coupled by the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. A few crickets played in harmony with the tune of a frog or two while nocturnal animals rummaged through the folliage and, no doubt, the humans' belongings looking for scraps of food where they could find them.

"Grey Wind….. Grey Wind! Have you been listening at all?" At the mention of his name, the Wolf lifted his big head and stared at the Creature in front of him. She had turned on her side, head propped up upon her hand while her mane, loose from its bindings, stood in all directions around her head. She looked in dissaray he thought and scooted slightly closer. He preferred his humans more wild.

"Oh big guy, you are not so terribly frightening now, are you?" When she spoke again, her voice had taken on a softer, slower tone and Grey Wind closed his eyes when she started to gently stroke the fur behind his ears. "What would you say if you could speak, Little Wolf? Would you tell me how to get out, how to get to the Wall?" He knew what she was saying, what she was referring to, but he only stared at her while she regarded him, head now laid down, hands folded underneath. Instead of answering, not that he would if he could his loyalty was with Master after all, he mimicked her movements. Perhaps it will bring her some comfort. "You know, I have never really been on my own and when we returned from Dorne I could never have predicted that I would make this journey completely alone. I was supposed to get here, find my brother and claim the throne after the North and South tired each other out, but instead I'm stuck in a tent, no family, no guidance, speaking to the pet Direwolf of a self-proclaimed King...maybe all Targaryens are mad after all" Creature chuckled, but he could tell she was sad. Grey Wind wanted to correct her. His Master had never proclaimed himself King! Could she not see that the burden was casted onto his shoulders by the pack he was leading? Yet he did nothing, could not do anything and for the first time ever the Direwolf wished he were human.

Rhayna

Jewels befit for a queen decorated a long slender neck and held jealous stares of women and hungry gazes of men alike as she waltzed through the palace she had once worked in as a young girl. This is where she belonged she decided as the sunlight caught the precious stones adorning her figure, casting a kaleidoscope of colours around the lavish halls of the Red Keep. The azure gown in a low cut southern style showed off her sunkissed skin and hugged her hips tantalizingly. She may not have held the ethereal beauty of the Queen Regent, but the tall woman knew she was an Exotic Beauty that demanded attention. Rhayna Sand relished in it. Finally she had all that she wanted, well a title would be preferred, a slight scowl marred her delicate features, but that would come in time. Once she had fulfilled all the Queen'd demands, her joy would be complete. Success was nearly hers. Too bad she had no one to celebrate with. The path she had forged was a lonely one and had demanded the highest price possible: betraying her Mother. A pang of guilt and sorrow always pierced her heart when she thought of that, but it was usually soothed by remembering how the love Daena Sand held for Marylean Targaryen had forced them to live a life on the run. Not that she did not love Marylean in her own way, but the girl had been raised to believe that the whole Kingdom should be hers and will eventually all be served on a silver platter. The unfairness and ubsurdity of the notion had, once Rhayna was old enough to understand the ways of the world, caused a darkness to cover the sisterly love she once held for her Mother's charge. Rhayna and Daena were the ones to do all the work, forge all the alliances, take all risks while Marylean lived in a world where the Seven Kingdoms were already hers. The girl was a spoiled little puppet with the good fortune of having the trueborn King as her father. If it weren't for them, a servant and her daughter, being at the right place at the right time, she would not have made it this far.

That thought gave the young women pause before magnificent oak doors. Her silent reverie had caused her composure to falter, something that would not bode well while facing Her Grace. Taking a deep breath in, she schooled her features; smoothed her brow and relaxed her shoulders, before nodding to the Gold Cloak standing sentry at the door to allow her entrance.

Sunlight streamed in through the vast bay windows, accompanied by a light breeze which carried the faint smell of salty air. Plush red carpets were neatly laid out on the floor and looked more luxurious than most of the beds she had to share as a child. A bookshelf with big, leather bound tomes decorated the far wall to the right. In the middle of the room, a few settee's were arranged in the shape of a horsehoof, a table with various assortments of liquors and the finest golden cups placed neatly in the centre. The Queen, regal and beautiful and oh so cunning sat there, awaiting Rhayna. This was the woman she aspired to and admired. One that was truly Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken no matter the challenges she faced.

"You summoned me, Your Grace," Rhayna spoke, ending her sentence with a slight curtsy and bob of her head.

"Yes, that I did. Have a seat girl." The queen smiled as she spoke, her voice light and airy as the sunlight formed a halo of gold around her face. Without having to be told twice, Rhayna took a seat. Not too close to cause unease, but close enough that whispering would be possible.

"It has been nearly two moons now since you came forth with the whereabouts of your mother and the girl, correct?"

"Yes, My Queen" she affirmed what Cersei already knew. It had been two moons since Rhayna decided to forge her own way to the top (her plan brewed longer than that, much longer). Two moons since her Mother's demise and the Spoiled Bitch's disappearance.

The halo around the Queen's head moved as she picked up her goblet of wine before she continued her inquisition "And in those two moons since, I have clothed you, housed you in the Palace none the less and showered you with all the jewelry you desire, but still I have no news from Dorne nor anything detailing Marylean Targaryen's death. I have found myself wondering if I have made a mistake in this….alliance whe have formed"

Panick gripped Rhayna on the inside, yet she kept her composure. Sure and confident as ever. "Of course not My Queen! As you well know, I have informed Prince Dorian of Daena Sand's untimely demise and Marylean's disappearance, stressing that I doubt she has made it out alive and I have spared no effort in trying to locate her not to ment-"

"Yes I am sure that bartering a few pieces of jewellery to sellswords and cutthroats 1must have been rather tiresome while you sit here and enjoy all the luxuries the Red Keep and My generosity has to offer" the Queen cut Rhayna off with a wave of her hand. To that Rhayna had no reply. What was she to do? She did not know Westeros all that well and only had a vague idea of where The Wall was was not like she could go out and look for her, she needed to keep Dorne well informed of what happened here, under the keen eye of Her Grace of course. The Queen stared at her intently. Rhayna started to squirm.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Alton Lannister still knows where his loyalties truly lie. As I am sure you must have heard, the Young Wolf has sent completely unreasonable terms which he forced a Lannister to hand deliver. Alton, the Seven bless his soul, has informed us that Marylean Targaryen has been taken prisoner by the Stark."

Rhayna wanted to laugh. Gloat even. She knew that girl would not be able to make it on her own. Two moons and already a captive. How sweetly the Fate's deal out justice. "Write to Dorian. Promise him an alliance and the safe return of his granddaughter. Ensure that he is aware that she is held by a barbarian that feasts on the flesh of the dead." As the Queen spoke, she regarded her sternly. The sun was hidden away behind a cloud and with it, the halo surrounding Her Highness had also fanished. "I am holding you fully accountable if the Stark boy manages to forge an alliance with the Martells before we can. He has a pawn to play and no doubt will sooner or later. " Cersei stood up, Rhayna following close behind. "I have seen the way The Mountain looks at you. Your Dornish colouring no doubt brings back fond memories for him" Rhayna's blood ran ice cold at the threat. Suddenly she felt too exposed, fearful tears welling up behind her frightend eyes. "If you do not succeed girl, I will be happy to give him another similar memory." The threat was finished silently, omniously as the Queen glided past the fearstricken girl.

How could she convince Dorne to form an allegiance with the Lannisters instead of the Starks if Robb Stark had an heir to the throne to barter with? Through blurred eyes, Rhayna could see that on the table neatly laid out between the various wine beakers, parchment, a quill and ink mocked her. Beckoned her. Trying and failing to compose herself, the Dornish woman reminded herself that she still had one secret that she could barter with; the reason why Marylean was travelling North. The family at the Wall. Rhayna only hoped that it would be enough to save her skin as she sat down and began to do as the Queen demanded.

Marylean

They were travelling again. Footsoldiers, horses, carriages, captives, cooks, lords and squires alike were all trudging through the mud as the rain relentlessy pelted down on them. Soaked, the war party progressed slowly towards their destination. Where exactly that was, the girl with the pale blue lips sat atop a grey gelding had no clue. Judging by the landscape that never seemed to change, she guessed that they must still be somewhere in the Riverlands and had travelled west to east to protect the North behind them. Teeth shattering, she pulled the light grey cloak tighter around herself and noticed that her fingertips had turned a peculiar shade of blue. How odd to have your skin revolt against the weather. Subtly she scrutinized the folk around her and noticed that the grim faced Northeners seemed unfazed by their weather conditions. Some carried on with their conversations, altough they were few and far between.

The men she usually travelled with didn't at all seem to be generous with words, except for Lady Catelyn...who was nowhere to be found. Presently it had been a fortnight since she had last seen the outside world or had any company. Human company that is. Grey Wind, or Little Wolf as she had started to call him upon realizing that the animal was not as harsh as his owner, was a fine companion indeed. He never spoke back (though she sometimes whished he would) was a fantastic listener and had surprisingly been a comfort when she could not keep the tears at bay. Especially when she had last seen his owner. There were no bruises left behind when the Northman had grabbed her, but his hands lingered in her memory. That attack had been uncalled for. Many a night she had lain awake and pondered what could have set him off, but nothing came to mind. She had told him Dorian was poisoned. What did he think? That the same fate awaited him? She was not dull. If the King in the North did depart from this life, she would be left in the hands of his men and the same fate, or worse, would certainly befall her then.

Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the memory and in turn had a few hairs plastered to her face. How long until this blasted journey was over. She huffed in annoyance and stared intently at the smoke that followed. The white smoke she exhaled was no longer alien to her, but it did make her long for the warmth of Essos, Volantis and Dorne. Mostly Dorne.

"Not to worry lass, s'not long now then we will be at Wayferer's Rest" a gruff voice spoke next to her. Tall, grey haired and stout the Lord Rumbar, or was it Umbar (their harsh accents often made it difficult to understand), rode next to her. Had done so the previous times as well. "F-f-forgi-ive m-me for b-b-eing s-skep-tic L-Lor-d Ru-Rum-mbar, b-but you p-p-prom-mised th-at le-leagues ag-ago s-swell" the Princess finally managed to croak out through shattering teeth.

"Seven bloo'y hells Lassy! You're still shiverin'? Doubtless that the fine cloak our King gave you does not do its job. What is wrong with ye then?" The Lord's loud voice attracted curious glances to the unlikely pair from all sides. Pulling the cloak even tighter around her to ward of the chill of the rain and wind, Marylean only drew her shoulders up. If she could not speak properly, she would rather not speak all.

"Aye I see, the silent treatment then eh Lassy?" the bearish man chuckled. Silently, Marylean scoffed. What a rediculous nickname! "If you were my child, I'd have put you over the knee by now. In the North children still have manners, especially little ladies. Aye, tough our women are, but they know a tantrum will not be tolera'ed."

How dare he? Does he not know who he is speaking to? If only she had her throne, she mused, then she could have shown him what a tantrum looks like.

"I-I-I'm n-ot a chi-child" at her reply, the man roared with laughter. Some bystander were full-on staring while others were chuckling along with the oaf beside her.

"Lassy take this from an old man who has seen lots of shit and fuckery. If ye want others to see ye as a grown woman, ye best be actin' like it. Ye fancy yourself the heir to the I'on Throne? Then ye best believe tha' leaders only live as long as their people respect and trust them" the Lord paused and took out a flask. A small frown appeared between his eyebrows as he took a swig from his flagon before returning it again. The crowd had ceased to listen to the conversation. Or had gone back to being subtle about it. "The King earned my respect when he showed mercy instead o' vengeance for a slight. Back when he was still a green boy in Winterfell. He has made hard choices, aye, the battle o' Whispering Wood was bitter, but we have an independent Kingdom since he was chosen. He was not born King, but he leads and fights like one and that is what we need." Marylean did not want to hear this. Never before had he spoken this much while they traveled to and fro. Why now? Suddenly she wished for solitude. If it weren't for the unrelenting rain, the man would no doubt have seen the few tears that escaped. Angry tears. She was fuming inside. "I do not ken what yer future holds Lassy, but if you ever do make it to that damn ugly Throne, ye best be up to the task. Do not make the mistakes your parents did Lassy and do not fight for revenge. Gi've the past a fuck you send off. A' the end a full belly, good ale and your kin is all you need. Fight for them or fight for freedom. Anything else is worthless.

Just a verry special shoutout to Mopargirl. Words cannot describe how thankful I am for yoyr help