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Chapter Twelve: The Little Warrior Princess
Lenora
He was feasting and celebrating. He had been doing so for the last week, not that Lenora understood why. She had asked him, once or twice, why he was in such a good mood and he had answered her with a cheeky smile and told her that he just felt happy and that it wasn't a crime. She hadn't pressed it, he was a young man after all, he was doing what young men did. Him being happy wasn't a crime. Though what had happened to her uncle was.
Her fist clenched around the parchment on the desk in front of her and stood up from the chair so quickly that she knocked it over. She turned to look at the chair for a brief second before she spun on her heel and stormed out of her bedchamber, chair be damned. She needed to find Robb.
He was in the hall with Theon and some of the younger men of Winterfell. Theon was toasting him with a goblet of wine when she entered the hall, her breath coming out in ragged gasps and her fists clenched. "Robb Stark," she bit out, her voice loud and clear even though she was shaking with rage.
All the men around Robb's table looked up at her. They stared at her in surprise, they hadn't heard her enter the hall and in all the time that Lenora had spent in Winterfell she had never raised her voice in anger before. This was a new side to Lenora Baratheon and they weren't sure what to do with it.
The smile died on Theon's lips and he quickly dropped his goblet down onto the table in front of him. "She's not happy," he whispered to Robb.
Lenora walked further into the room, "Damn right I am not happy, Greyjoy," Lenora hissed at him. She was quiet, but the ward heard every word. She glared at him for a moment more before she allowed her gaze to shift to Robb. "I would have a word, Lord Stark," she told him. Despite the fact that she called him Lord, her statement was not a question or a request. It was an order, she wanted a word with him and she expected it that instant. "Alone," she added, without looking away from him.
Robb looked down at her with an easy grin, "Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of these men, Nora." The men started to chuckle and joke at his mocking nature.
Lenora bristled, her fists clenched tighter, her fingernails dug into her palm and she was sure that she had drawn blood, but she didn't care. She was so angry right now and his casual use of her nickname made her even more furious. She didn't mind the nickname when he used it in private, but now he used it to mock her in front of his men. She was a princess, and she demanded to be treated as such.
"My name is Lenora Baratheon, my father is King of the Seven Kingdoms. I am a princess of Westeros and if you are to address me, you will do so properly!" she declared, moving a step closer to the front table. She smiled, albeit ruefully, when the men around Robb lost some of their good humor. Theon looked ashamed of himself, several of them men dropped into deep bows before moving away from Robb, as if afraid of being too close to the cause of her wrath.
Robb even had the grace to look abashed, as he stood from his seat and inclined his head, "My Lady," he greeted her, gesturing toward the table. "Please have a seat while I send the men away."
He didn't need to send them away, they were already rushing toward the door when Lenora spoke again. "They will go nowhere," she commanded, stopping them in their tracks. The men glanced between Robb and Lenora, silently trying to figure out who they should listen to. They were Robb's men, while his father was away from Winterfell they were his to command. But she was a princess. She outranked him. Lenora sighed, deciding to put them out of their misery. "Sit down," she commanded.
Benches scraped against the stone floor as each man quickly found a seat as far away from Lenora and Robb as they possibly could.
Lenora smirked at Robb and inclined her head toward the seated men, silently gloating in how easily she controlled his own men. Even Theon had obeyed her. The smirk quickly fell from her lips though and a moment later her face was hard as she marched across the room, unfolding the parchment she still clutched in her hand and slammed it on the table. "What is this?" she asked him, slamming her palm down on the letter. When she lifted her hand there were spots of blood on parchment, she had drawn blood in her anger.
If Robb noticed the blood stains on the parchment when he glanced at it he didn't let on. "It seems to be a letter," he told her, his tone bored. He reached out to pull the letter closer to him, "From your mother?" he asked. "That's charming. Does she miss you?"
He was mocking her again. He was still pulling the letter closer to him as she grabbed a knife from the table and slammed it through the letter into the table top. Now, the only way that Robb could pull the letter closer to him was to rip it. She had driven the knife through the letter dangerously close to one of Robb's fingers, she had done that on purpose, and the man quickly pulled his hand off the letter, as if worried that her next knife would go through his hand.
"Does it look familiar?" she asked him, her voice deadly.
"Why would it look familiar?" Robb asked her. "I wasn't there when you opened it."
"But you opened it before I could," Lenora accused him. She wanted him to deny it, she wanted him to honestly tell her that she was wrong, that he hadn't been keeping ravens from her. But when he looked up at her his blue eyes were ice cold and distant. He wouldn't deny it because he couldn't do it honestly.
At least the man had some sense of honor.
"How could you tell?" he asked her, his voice quiet.
"The letter is dated a week and a half ago," Lenora informed him, her index finger jabbing at the date at the top of the letter. "It takes a raven three days, at most, to deliver a letter from King's Landing to Winterfell. Three days, Robb. I should have received this raven a week ago. But it came this morning."
Robb shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe the raven got lost," he suggested.
"Ravens don't get lost."
"Maybe she didn't send it as soon as she wrote it," Robb supplied.
Lenora chuckled, though there was no good will or humor in her laugh, "Yes, that's it," she agreed sarcastically with a nod. "Your mother takes my uncle prisoner and my mother writes me to tell me and lets the letter sit on her desk for a week before she sends it to me? That's a laugh, Robb."
Robb rolled his eyes at her, "Yes, my mother has your uncle as prisoner. And your mother wants you to beg for his release. I didn't realize that your mother cared that much for the Imp."
"Don't call him that," Lenora snapped. She felt tears spring to her eyes and she cursed to herself. She was a Lannister and a Baratheon, she was supposed to be strong. Stronger than this. She had never seen her mother cry, but now she was letting Robb see her tear up. She couldn't help it, she was just so angry. "Don't you dare call him that!"
"What else do you call a dwarf?" Robb asked, forcing a laugh out even though they both knew there was nothing funny about this situation. He watched her for a moment, "You actually care about the Imp," he observed. "Your mother is upset because it makes the Lannisters look bad, but you - you are actually worried about him."
Lenora looked away from him and angrily wiped at her eyes, "My mother says that your mother announced loudly, and often, that she was bringing Tyrion to Winterfell." She looked around the hall, pretending to look for Catelyn and Tyrion. She turned back to Robb, her eyebrows raised, "Well?" she asked, "Where are they?"
Robb rolled his eyes at her, "Do you think my mother would be stupid enough to announce so loudly where she was taking your uncle?" Robb asked her. He chuckled, "I don't know where my mother dragged him, but I am sure that it is far away from Winterfell."
Lenora watched him for a moment, her eyes scanning his face, looking for some glimpse of the man that she thought she had known. Trying to think of where his mother might have taken her uncle. Not to Winterfell, Robb was right about that. Riverrun was too close to her family to be safe. The Eyrie - "She took his to the Eyrie," she breathed, looking at Robb. "Didn't she?"
Robb shrugged his shoulders, but there was a glint in his eye. Lenora could not tell if the glint was because he was upset that she had figured it out, or proud that she had done it so quickly.
She looked at Robb, watched him for a moment before she felt her shoulders drop. She was still angry, still hurt, but she realized that yelling at him and embarrassing him in front of his men was not the way to get Robb to listen to her. She had spent seventeen years with Cersei and it had taken her until now to learn what Cersei had been trying to teach her for years - how to control a man. Robb wouldn't respond to her anger, it only put him on the defense.
She took a deep breath, forcing her breath to come out shaky. She ducked her head and glanced at the men around her shyly. She bit her lip before she looked back up at Robb under her eyelashes, "I wish I hadn't ordered them to stay," she whispered. She was afraid to speak in more than a whisper, afraid that Robb would hear the anger that still raged inside her if she spoke too loudly.
Robb chuckled and shook his head, he was relaxing, "Then send them away, my Lady." Lenora nodded, but when she turned toward the men she made sure to do so slowly, shyly, as if unsure of herself. Robb chuckled again and pulled his chair out from the table, preparing to sit back down, "Leave," he ordered the men.
Lenora turned back to him and smiled gratefully before she bit her lip and looked down again as if embarrassed. Robb watched as his men left the hall and once they were alone he beckoned Lenora closer to him. She smiled gratefully before she rushed forward as if all she wanted was to apologize to him for her outburst. She dropped down to her knees beside his chair and reached out, grabbing his left hand to hold between both of hers. "I'm sorry, Robb," she whispered, ducking her head so that he wouldn't be able to see that her gaze was still hard.
It worked in her favor, he thought she was simply embarrassed. He squeezed her bottom hand, "You have no reason to apologize, Nora," he told her, his voice soft and gentle. "You care for your uncle, I cannot fault you for that. I can only promise you that my mother would not have taken him hostage unless she had a good reason."
"I just want to make sure that he's safe," she whispered. "That's all I want."
She could almost feel Robb softening toward her, she squeezed her eyes tight, forcing a tear to drop from her eye and land on Robb's sleeve. That one tear was enough, he noticed. He made a gentle shushing noise as he pulled his hand free from her grasp and brought it up to the top of her head to run his fingers through her hair. He was comforting her. She had him, she opened her mouth, about to request that he contact his mother and beg her to release Tyrion or, at the very least, bring him to Winterfell so that Lenora could look after his treatment, but before she could the doors to the hall flew open and Maester Luwin hurried into the hall.
They both turned to look at him, he was rushing and Lenora had never seen the old man rush. The old man hurried toward them, nodding when he realized they were together, "Good," he announced, "this concerns both of you."
"Is it my uncle?" Lenora asked, quickly forgetting the game she had been playing on Robb. She struggled to get to her feet. Robb reached down to help and when she was standing he left his hand on her low back, still trying to comfort her.
"No," Luwin told her, "well yes, but not Lord Tyrion."
"Uncle Jaime?" Lenora asked, her breathing hitched for real, "What happened to him? Please Gods, tell me he isn't dead?"
Robb kept his hand on her low back and made a quiet, gentle shushing noise. Maester Luwin looked at her, his face gentle. She was sure that he was about to tell her that someone had killed her uncle. He looked between her and Robb. "Lord Eddard has been attacked, in King's Landing," he started. "By Ser Jaime."
Robb's hand dropped from Lenora's back so quickly that she almost stumbled at the lack of contact. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. There was no way that her uncle would attack Ned Stark without reason.
She turned to look at Robb, his eyes were narrowed, his jaw tense, his teeth clenched. She reached out to him, "Robb," she whispered. "This fight, it isn't ours, it's our parents." She looked at him, desperate, "This is not our fight."
Robb looked at her, his eyes colder than she had ever seen. "Not our fight?" he asked her, his voice hard. "Is that why you were just kneeling before me, all wide eyes and whispered embarrassment about to beg me to ask my mother to free your uncle?"
Lenora flushed, she hadn't realized she had been so obvious.
Robb looked like he wanted to say more, he raised his hands toward her neck and his fingers twitched as though he wanted to strangle her. He sighed and lowered his hands back to his sides. He took a step around her and began to storm out of the hall.
"Robb," Lenora called after him, "stop!"
She made to follow him, but she hadn't taken more than a step when Robb turned to glare at her, "Leave me alone," he ordered before he pulled the door to the hall open and left, letting the heavy wood door slam behind him.
...
She smiled as she felt Casterly move beneath her. It was good to take the horse out again. She smiled up at the large snowflakes that were falling from the sky. She was bundled in a cloak to fight off the chill in the air, but all she wanted to do was throw the cloak off and ride as fast as she could, as far as she could. She wanted nothing more than to fly.
But Robb might think she was running. He had apologized for his behavior the night before, but she felt as if she was still on shaky ground. And besides, this ride wasn't for her. It was for Bran. It was his first ride outside Winterfell's walls. His first chance to see if he really could ride just as well as he used to, before his fall.
She was riding between the two Stark brothers now. She was aware of Robb's eyes on her, he had been watching her all day. But instead of calling him out on it, she chose to ignore him. She turned to her left and let her smile fall on Bran instead, "How does it feel, Bran?" she asked. "To be riding again?"
Bran smiled up at her, "Good," he told her with a nod. "Really good." They heard someone calling out behind them and they turned to see Theon on a charger, trying to catch up with their group. Bran rolled his eyes, "I want to go faster," he told them, leaning around Lenora so that he could make eye contact with his brother. "Please, Robb?"
"Yes," Lenora teased playfully, "please, Robb?"
Robb sighed, "Fine," he told the two of them, he didn't roll his eyes, but the tone of his voice made it clear that he wanted to. He nodded toward the two of them, "As you will."
Lenora smiled at Bran before she leaned forward, spurring Casterly to get him to go faster. Bran chuckled and twitched his reins, "Faster, Dancer!" he commanded and his horse responded immediately, trotting forward to catch up with Lenora and Casterly.
Robb chuckled as he watched after the two of them. "Not too fast!" he yelled after them. "And not too far!"
"Don't be a spoilsport!" Lenora called out over her shoulder. "I'll keep him safe!"
They rode for about ten minutes, deeper into the woods than Lenora had ever traveled before. Bran had giggled as he rode and the noise had brought a smile to her lips. He didn't laugh for long though, the giggle died on his lips as the two of them crossed a small river. Lenora turned to look at the boy, his face suddenly solemn. "What's wrong, Bran?" she asked him, reining Casterly in so that she could ride beside the young boy.
He nodded toward the river, "Jory took us fishing for trout out here once," he told her, bringing up the old captain of Winterfell's guard. Robb had told him last night that Ned had been attacked and that most of hi guard had been murdered. "Robb, Jon, and I," the boy continued with his story. "I didn't catch anything, but Jon gave me his fish on the way back to the castle."
Lenora smiled, "That sounds like Jon," she told the young boy.
The child sighed, "I'll never see Jory again," he whispered. "Or father. Or Jon, will I?"
Lenora shook her head, "Don't say that Bran," she commanded. "Your uncle came to visit, didn't he?" she asked. "Jon will come too. And your father is injured, but he is still safe. You will see him too, I promise."
Bran started to demand that she swear to him, to make a vow that he would see his father and brother again, but Lenora shushed him. Something suddenly didn't feel right about the woods. They felt too close now. Too quiet. Some leaves rustled in a tree to her right and Lenora spun her horse around to see a group of men coming through the trees. She glanced back at Bran, he shook his head, he didn't recognize any of them. She turned back to the men and was surprised when Bran nudged his horse forward, so that he and Dancer were standing between her and the strangers. Her heart broke a bit at the thought that this small, crippled boy was trying to protect her.
"Good day to you," he greeted them. His voice shook.
"All alone?" a voice asked from behind them, Lenora turned. There were four men in front of them and two coming out of the trees behind them. They looked wild, these men, she didn't trust them. "Just a young boy and woman? Lost in the wolfswood?"
"We're not lost," Bran told them, he started to ride in a small, tight circle around Lenora and Casterly, trying to guard her from all sides. "My brother will be here shortly."
Lenora shifted slightly in her saddle, she hoped that Bran's riding win circles would distract the strangers from her movement. She held Casterly's reins in her left hand as she reached her right hand beneath her skirts, her hand closing over the hilt of her sword.
"Is that silver?" a woman's voice asked, Lenora glanced up, surprised that there would be a woman in the midst of these rough men. She saw a woman break away from the group and move toward Bran, she was looking at the wolf pin that kept his cloak on. "Pretty." She turned to look at Lenora, "And the lady wears a gold locket. And I bet that ring on her left hand won't sell cheap."
Lenora's hand tightened even more on the hilt of her sword. She did not pull it out yet, still hoping that she would not have to, hoping that there would be some way out of this.
One of the men gestured between her and Bran, "We'll take the pin, the locket, the ring, and the horses. Get down and be quick about it."
"I can't," Bran told them, gesturing toward his legs.
The man stepped forward, grabbing Dancer's reins and throwing Bran's cloak away from his legs so that he could see the straps. "He's strapped in," he told his companion, looking over his shoulders at them. He turned back to Bran, "Are you some kind cripple?" he asked.
Bran bristled and started to argue with them, but Lenora hushed him, the last thing they needed was for the strangers to know how important they were. The man was cutting the straps at Bran's legs. Lenora flinched when his blade sliced through Bran's pants and skin, causing him to bleed. She needed to act fast.
Two of the strangers were approaching her, she let go of her sword long enough to pull her ring off her finger, it was a beautiful ring that Robb had given her shortly after her family had left, to signify their betrothal. But she didn't regret it as she threw the ring to the ground, watching as it disappeared into the grass and the two that been advancing on her stopped to search for the ring.
And then, grabbing her sword again, she jumped off Casterly, taking just a moment to hit the horse on its hindquarters and to order him back toward the castle, she hoped that when Robb saw her empty saddle he would come galloping to find them.
Once the horse was running she turned back toward their attackers, her sword arm at the ready. One of the men chuckled, advancing on her, "The lady is a warrior it would seem," he announced to his companions, confident enough that he even looked over his shoulder to laugh with his friends. "Does she mean to fight us?"
Turning away from her had been a mistake. A mistake that the man would never make again. Lenora rushed forward, holding her sword above her head with both hands and bringing it down with as much force as she could, slicing clean through his outstretched left arm, an inch above his elbow. He had been holding a spear, but now both spear and arm fell to the ground beside him as a spurt of red blood sprayed warm across her face. The man started to scream, but Lenora quickly silenced him by sending her sword through his throat, cutting his vocal chords and his ability to breath.
She smiled grimly as the man crumpled to the ground in front of her, no longer blocking the rest of his group from sight. She hadn't been able to put up much of a fight the first time Bran had been attacked. She would not be that weak again. She barely had any time to marvel at the fact that she had just killed her first man.
"Step away from the boy," she ordered, glaring at the wild strangers. "Leave now and I will not give chase. Or stay, and I will kill you."
"You bitch," one of the men growled, advancing on her. He had a spear too, though she lost the ability to attack them unaware. It would not be as easy to kill this one.
He lunged, jabbing toward her with his spear. She met him blow for blow the steel of her sword clanging against the metal of his spear tip. She allowed him to advance toward her, playing the evasion game that her Uncle Jaime had helped her perfect. A cat, always just out of reach. He chased after her, smiling when she stumbled over some tree roots and fell to the ground on her back.
He advanced on her, not relaxing his grip on his spear, but slowing his movements. He thought they were playing cat and mouse. He thought he was the cat. He thought he had caught her. Lenora smiled at him, pulling her right elbow back, as far as the hard ground would allow and then thrusting it up and into his groin. She turned her head to avoid the spray of blood this time. The man fell to the ground, he wasn't dead yet, but he would bleed out soon. Lenora stood from the ground and turned toward the other four strangers.
She allowed her arms to extend out to her sides, "Who's next?" she asked, her tone taunting.
A chorus of growls sounded from behind her, she didn't have to turn to look. Robb, Theon, and the direwolves had arrived. The wolves attacked, flashing past her: dark grey - Grey Wind, auburn - Summer, and pitch black - Shaggydog.
The men looked afraid and she smiled to herself. There were four more men and the woman. None of them would make it out of the wood alive.
-.-.-.-.-
Robb
She was covered in blood, his little warrior. He couldn't tell if any of it was hers and he had no time to stop to check. This hadn't been what he meant when he told them to be careful. He was sure that this wasn't what Lenora had meant when she promised him that she would keep Bran safe.
One of the wildlings, a woman ran toward him, her spear held in both her hands, no doubt ready run him through with it. With an easy upward flick of his wrist, Robb lifted his sword and deflected the spear, sending the woman veering toward his right.
To his left Lenora stood up, ready to fight again. Without speaking to him, she moved behind him. She wasn't cowering, she wasn't hiding from the fight. Her back was pressed against his, she meant to cover him. To fight with him. To protect each other. Robb took a step forward, closer to the wildling woman and Lenora countered it with a graceful backward step, moving with him as if they had practiced this.
Before he could reach the woman a man rushed at him, a battle axe raised, his sword caught him in the face with a sickening crunch and a bright spray of blood. Behind him he heard a clanging and he looked over his shoulder to see Lenora and one of the other Wildling men fighting each other, both with swords.
The man closest to Bran made to grab Dancer's reins and for a moment it looked as if he would have a solid grasp on them, but then Grey Wind had leapt on him, tearing at his throat and nearly beheading the man before his body hit the ground.
Summer went after the last man tearing at his stomach viciously. Lenora and her opponent were still clashing away and Robb whistled, getting the attention of Grey Wind, the wolf rounded around them and when the man was distracted he grabbed the man by the calf and dragged him down to the ground. The other two wolves ran at the now screaming man, biting at his neck, his face, any bit of skin they could sink their teeth into.
Robb looked around for the woman, he found her on her hands and knees, holding out Lenora's ring to him and begging for mercy. He grabbed the ring from her hand, wondering briefly how she had gotten her dirty hands on it. He heard horse hooves behind him, Theon had finally arrived with the guards that Robb had sent him for when he saw Casterly galloping toward them without Lenora in his saddle.
"A little late to the party, but you can tie her up and bring her back to the castle," he gestured toward the wildling woman. "She will be our prisoner," he announced as he turned around to check on Lenora.
She laughed and waved him off, "Go see to, Bran," she told him. "I will be fine."
Robb turned and walked toward Bran, "Are you hurt?" he asked.
"He cut my leg," Bran told him, but he shook he head. "But I didn't feel it."
Robb nodded, "We'll have Maester Luwin look at it back at the castle."
Bran nodded, "Can I ride?" he asked.
Robb chuckled and nodded, "Of course," he told his younger brother before he turned to look at Theon. "You'll take him, Theon? Straight to the Maester?"
"Of course, Robb," Theon told him, nudging his horse forward so that he could grab hold of Dancer's reins and lead Bran and his horse back to Winterfell.
Robb sent a hard look at the guards and they got the idea. One of them grabbed the end of the rope that Theon had tied around the wildling woman's wrists and he began to pull her behind the rest of the group.
Robb walked over to Lenora, when he had been checking on Bran she had dropped to the ground. She was sitting, her left arm wrapped around her legs and her right arm bent, her head resting on her upper arm and her hand clutching at her dark curls. Her sword, on the ground at her side, glinted red with blood. Her arms and her face were stained with blood as well. Her shoulders were shaking, she was crying.
He dropped down to his knees in front of her and he reached out to grab her hands. "Nora?" he asked her, his voice gentle. She didn't answer him right away, she ducked her head so that he wouldn't be able to see her tears. "Nora, look at me," he commanded, letting go of one of her arms so that he could slip his fingers underneath her chin so that he could force her to look up at him.
Her eyes shone grey through the blood that covered her face. Robb sighed and reached into his breast pocket to pull out his handkerchief. He moved away from Lenora for just a moment to dip the handkerchief in the river water and then he was back, gently wiping the blood off of her face and then each of her arms. She was still crying and it scared him, he didn't know what to do with her.
It wasn't the hysterical wailing he was used to from Sansa. Her tears were silent, streaming down her cheeks. He thought for a moment that he needn't have dipped his handkerchief in the river, he could have used her tears. Her shoulders were shaking violently. And her lips kept moving, she was saying something but she couldn't find her voice.
"Nora," Robb tried one more time, waiting for a moment and sighing when he still didn't get a response. "Len?" he tried, desperate to break her from whatever spell she was under, even if it meant using a Lannister's nickname for her. "Lady Len."
Her grey eyes shot up to meet his and for the first time since he had knelt beside her he thought that she had finally heard him."Talk to me, Len," he ordered.
"I killed a man," she whispered to him, her eyes darting toward the body. "I killed two of them. I killed them."
Robb nodded, he understood why she was crying. Despite being deadly with a sword Lenora had never killed a man, and now she had killed two. He made a shushing noise and brought his hand to the back of her head, pushing her face into his chest and ducking his head so that he could press a kiss against her forehead. "To save Bran," he told her without pulling away. His lips brushed against her forehead with each word. "To save yourself." He pulled her tighter against him and shook his head, "I would have been lost if something happened to the two of you."
He held her, there on the ground, wrapped in his arms for almost an hour until her shaking ended and her tears dried. Then he grabbed her sword, wrapped her in his arms and hopped onto his horse to carry them all safely back to Winterfell.
...
She was quiet. She had been quiet since he had brought her back to Winterfell. She didn't leave her room, save for meals. She didn't speak during dinners. She smiled softly, but shook her head every time Rickon climbed into her lap and begged her to tell him a story. She looked as if she was going to burst into tears when Theon had raised his goblet to toast their warrior princess every night as she left the hall to head to her bedchamber.
This had been going on for five nights when Robb decided that enough was enough. After dinner, he stayed in the hall for a few minutes more before he too left. He didn't go to his own bedchamber, instead he knocked on her door. It took her so long to get to the door that he was sure that she hadn't heard him. He was turning from her door when he heard the bolt slide and the door began to open.
She stood in the doorway, wearing a light chemise with a heavy red and gold robe draped across her shoulders. She hadn't expected him, he could tell. Her right hand quickly reached up and grabbed at her robe, closing it over her chest, but not before he realized that he could her breasts through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Her left hand reached up to swipe at her face, wiping away tears. She had been crying again. She had been crying every night since the wildling ambush in the woods.
He sighed, "Nora," he greeted her softly, "are you alright?"
She scoffed and turned away from him, walking further into her bedchamber, she didn't look surprised when he followed her in. "Do I look alright to you, Robb?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if she were giving herself a hug.
Robb watched her, she wasn't just hugging herself, he realized, she was holding herself together. "Talk to me then," he commanded. "I'm here. Let me help."
She looked around her bedchamber, "Not here," she told him, shaking her head. "I am a princess, after all, we can't have whispers about you spending time in my bedchamber."
Robb nodded, he took a step toward the door before he turned to gesture that Lenora leave before him. Lenora raised her eyebrows at him, "Am I to walk around the castle in my robe?" she asked him before she moved toward one of her trunks. She pulled out a dress, a dark red one that laced up the back. She turned away from him and pulled the dress over her head, letting the wool fabric fall to the ground. She smoothed the fabric with her hands and turned to look at Robb over her right shoulder, "Lace me up?" she asked.
Robb swallowed and nodded quickly walked over to her. He hoped that she wouldn't notice the way his hands shook as he grabbed onto the laces and pulled them tight before tying them, tightening the dress so that the fabric would hug the girl's upper body.
He left his hands on her back, his right hand sliding up to her shoulder and brushing her hair away from her neck. He stared at her skin, transfixed, for a moment before he leaned closer and pressed his lips against it, just above her pulse point. He could feel her heartbeat quicken, he could sense the catch in her breath.
She took a deep, shaky breath, he was sure that she was going to tell him to stop, that what he was doing was not proper. But he interrupted her before she could, "I am sorry," he told her, his voice nothing but a whisper. "I am sorry that my mother took your uncle prisoner."
She sighed and he felt her relax underneath his hand. "I am sorry too," she told him, her voice less than a whisper. "I'm sorry that my uncle attacked your father."
She turned around so that she could look at him, he dropped his hands quickly so that they wouldn't land anywhere inappropriate. "I am sorry that I tried to trick you into doing my mother's bidding."
Robb nodded, "I'm sorry that I blamed you for your uncle's actions." He sighed. "You were right, Nora, their fight is not ours. I should not have taken it out on you."
Lenora smiled up at him and nodded, "Just so," she told him before she brushed around him and walked toward the door of the chamber. She turned to look at him as she paused in the doorframe, "Are you coming or not?" she asked, her tone teasing.
Robb followed her quickly, not wasting a moment. He wasn't sure where she was going to bring him, but he knew one thing, in that moment he would have followed the woman anywhere. She led him through the halls quietly, avoiding the highly populated areas and proving to him just how much she knew about Winterfell. She learned fast.
She led him out of the castle and into the wolfswood. He followed her quietly until they reached the river in the woods, back to where she and Bran had been attacked the week before. He looked around them, expecting to see the bodies of the six men they had killed, but he only found one. Beside the body he saw five mounds of dirt and a hole. Lenora didn't look up at him as she knelt on the ground next to the last body, "I've been burying them," she told him as she slid her arms under the man's shoulders and started to pull him toward his hole.
"How?" Robb asked, watching her as as she slowly dragged the body across the clearing. Then it dawned on him, no one ever saw her in her chamber, she had asked for privacy. "You don't spend all day in your room, do you?" he asked.
She smiled at him and dropped the man for a moment to wipe at some sweat on her brow, "I dig the holes during the day," she told him. "Bury the men at night."
"You shouldn't be out here alone," Robb told her, looking around the clearing. She started dragging the body again, Robb sighed and moved closer to her so that he could help her drag the body. She nodded to him gratefully.
"I'm not alone," Lenora told him with a playfully smirk, "you're with me."
"I wasn't with you last night," Robb pointed out. "Or the nights before."
"No," Lenora told him, shaking her head as the two of them dumped the body in the hole. "But he was."
Robb stared at her, his eyebrows raised, wondering who he was. Lenora nodded toward the trees behind him and he turned to see Grey Wind walking toward them. He turned to look at her surprised, he had noticed it the day Grey Wind had almost attacked Tyrion, the wolf listened to her. He hadn't noticed that the two seemed to get along so well. He watched her as she knelt down on the ground and began to shove dirt back into the hole with her hands, "Why?" he asked her.
"Why what?" Lenora asked, looking up at him from the ground as she continued to bury the man.
"Why are you burying them?" he asked her. "They attacked you."
"They're men," she told him with a shrug. "No matter who they are. No matter what they did. They're men. They lived lives, they had families, they worships gods. And they deserve to meet their makers."
Author's Note:
I had so much fun with this chapter. Robb and Lenora were getting too friendly for my sake, so I had to add some drama. Plus, Lenora was itching to prove herself strong after what little she was able to do when Bran was first attacked.
I also actually really enjoyed the conversation between Lenora and Robb at the end of the chapter. Robb is an honorable man, there is no denying that, but there is something Lenora has that he does not. Empathy. Yes, these men attacked her and Bran and yes they needed to die. But once they were dead they were no longer her enemy and they deserved her mercy.
That is why she took the time to bury them.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It came earlier than expected! What was your favorite part? Review and tell me! The box is just down there! (If I could put in an arrow, I would!)
Evaline101: In Lenora's defense she's in this horrible situation where she is living with the Starks, but she still needs to protect her family. She can't warn Catelyn about the blade, because she knows it belongs to her uncle Tyrion. But don't worry, she'll figure out her priorities soon.
DannyBlack70: Robb was such a douche in that scene! I love him, but he was a jerk. He was a jerk for most of this chapter too, but Lenora will soften him out, and what she can't soften she will try to understand. Though, don't worry, she won't be afraid to call him on his shit if he needs it.
Guest: Hello friend! Welcome to the review club. This is where the cool kids hang out! I just wrote the chapter where Lenora figures Jaime out. (It's a good one!) I hope you stick around to get to that one, you won't regret it.
Raging Raven: I agree. Tyrion is one of my favorite characters. He's hard to write, I'm always too afraid that I won't do him justice. But he makes EVERYTHING better.
That's all I've got for now! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Until next time,
Chloe Jane.