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I own Lenora Baratheon, nothing more.

My name is Chloe Jane and there is nothing in the world longer than the last ten seconds of the Cavs/Pacers game yesterday afternoon.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Protection

Sansa

Tommen cried the day they said goodbye to Princess Myrcella. It warmed Sansa's heart to see such emotion from the young boy. In how horrible Joffrey was it was easy to forget that his siblings, his brother and sisters, were the complete opposite of him.

Lenora could be harsh, but Sansa had heard that the princess was never harsh to anyone who did not deserve her censure. And she was regal in a way that Joffrey had never learned. The older girl knew her place, she knew she was higher than most she met, but in the short time Sansa had spent with her she never felt low. The dark haired princess had the art of making everyone feel as though they belonged. No, Sansa corrected her thoughts, the dark haired queen. It was treason to say it out loud, but in her thoughts she could call the woman Queen all she wanted.

And Myrcella, the golden princess was kind. So much kinder than her mother and her older brother. She smiled sweetly and always asked after Sansa's health and happiness every time they met. Where Lenora and Joffrey were equally boisterous, Myrcella was soft spoken. Her voice and laughter little more than a whisper. But as Joffrey's hatred and dislike of Sansa got louder and more obvious, Myrcella's own pleasure at Sansa's company had become more pointed as well.

Tommen, the dear, reminded her so much of Rickon that it hurt. He was older than Rickon by quite a bit, but he had been spoiled as a child. He was just as soft, just as prone to tears, just a baby. Just like Rickon. Sansa had taken to calling Tommen, Lamb, at least in her head because it was the perfect animal to describe the sweet boy. This was no lion, but rather a sheep, trying to wear a lion's mane. And she loved him for it.

It hurt her, to watch his tears as the royal party watched Princess Myrcella's ship sail away. They were the same tears that the boy had cried when his family left Lenora at Winterfell and Sansa ached to kneel down in front of the small prince and wipe his tears away as his eldest sister had done on that day. It hurt her even more when she heard Joffrey laughing at his brother's tears.

"You mew like a suckling babe," Joffrey hissed at the young boy. "Princes aren't supposed to cry."

Perhaps it was because she was saddened by the fact that Myrcella would no longer be at the Red Keep to be kind to her. Perhaps it was because Tommen reminded her so much of her own younger brother. Perhaps it was because they were in public, his mother and the Imp there to watch him so that he couldn't punish her. Whatever the reason, Sansa spoke up.

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," she pointed out, her voice harsh and she would do little to soften it. "And the twins, Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound."

"Be quiet," Joffrey hissed at her. "Or I will have Ser Meryn give you a mortal wound."

Sansa glanced at the Queen, to see if Cersei would do anything to force her son to behave, but she seemed to not even have noticed. She was too engrossed in something Ser Balon Swann was telling her. If the Queen wouldn't defend her then Sansa would have to defend herself.

"I saw you cry," she bit out, her eyes glancing away from Joffrey and to the ships that would carry Myrcella to Dorne, how she wished that she could be on one of those ships. It wouldn't even matter where it was going so long as it was leaving King's Landing.

"Did you say something?" Joffrey asked, rounding on her.

She flicked her gaze to his face, "I've seen you cry, My King," she told him again, this time being a bit more respectful about it.

Joffrey glared at her, but one quick glance in his uncle's direction kept him quiet. He had had enough of watching the ships leave the bay though, he ordered his guards and his family to leave and follow him back to the Red Keep.

Though it was obvious that she wanted to stay until her daughter's ship was out of sight, even Cersei followed her son without argument.

The narrow streets were lined by men of the City Watch, holding back the crowd with the shafts of their spears. Sansa could still remember when she had first come to King's Landing, before the war, when the citizens celebrated when the highborn walked the streets, but now that had changed. They were hostile and angry. She wondered at the hate that shone in their eyes, she had never done anything to deserve their hatred. She was sure of it.

A group of guards walked in front of the royal party and then, high on a grey palfrey with a golden crown on his golden hair sat Joffrey. As his betrothed, Sansa rode beside him, much to her dislike, on a shorter chestnut mare. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, looking neither right nor left. If she made eye contact with the crowd they would yell. She hated when they yelled. For the first time since her father had died she was thankful for the Kingsguard, for the Hound and Ser Mandon Moore who rode at the sides of Joffrey and herself.

Tommen, as Joffrey's heir, rode behind them, still sniffling. Then the Queen Regent. And finally, at the back, the Imp with a double column of guardsmen behind him.

The crowd smelled, Sansa tried not to wrinkle her nose. No one had ever told her how much the capital city would smell. In every story she had ever heard of King's Landing, the stink had never been part of them. And it was silent, it made her uncomfortable. She shivered in her saddle, briefly praying that the silence was not as foreboding as it felt. That the resentment she thought she saw in the people's eyes was anything but.

They crossed Fishmonger's Square and rode along Muddy Way before turning onto the narrow, curving Hook to begin their climb up Aegon's High Hill. And finally there was some noise from the crowd of onlookers. A few voices raised a cry of "Joffrey! All hail, all hail!" as the Prince passed them. But for every man or woman who joined the cry, a hundred kept their silence.

She could hear the Queen laughing at something behind her. She forced herself not to turn in the saddle though she was curious as to what the Queen could find so entertaining. Surely she was not the only one who felt how uncomfortable the crowd was.

Still they continued their climb.

Halfway up the High Hill a wailing woman forced her way forward, past the watchmen and into the street in front of the King. Sansa had to tighten her grip on the reins of her horse, the mare coming to a skittering stop in order to not trample the woman. She was holding a baby, but the closer Sansa looked the more obvious it became that it was the corpse of baby, rather than a living child. The woman held it above her head, it was blue and swollen and grotesque, it had been dead for some time.

Sansa turned to her right to look at Joffrey, it seemed as thought he was going to ride straight through the woman. The crowd would not take kindly to the King killing the mother of a dead child. So she leaned over, her hand landing on his left forearm, "Perhaps, you could give her something, My sweet King," she whispered, her voice soft. She hoped that he was not still angry at her for reminding him of the time when he had cried in front of her. He would not heed her advice if he was angry. "To help support any other children she might have."

Joffrey looked as though he wanted to argue with her, but he had to see the reason to her suggestion. A moment later he fumbled in his purse and threw the woman a silver stag.

It was messily done. The coin bounced off the child's head and rolled through the crowd, many of the starving citizens diving to catch it, some even fighting each other. The woman did not notice, so far she was in her grief. She continued to stand where she was.

"Leave her, Your Grace," Cersei called out from behind them. "She's beyond our help, the poor thing."

At the Hound's urging Sansa and Joffrey steered their horses around the woman to continue their ride to the Keep. She did not seem to notice them, her wild eyes searched out the Queen, her face contorting into a look a pure loathing, "Whore!" she shrieked, pointing at Cersei. "Kingslayer's whore! Brotherfucker!" She dropped her dead child to the ground as she pointed at Cersei with both hands and continued to chant, "Brotherfucker brotherfucker brotherfucker."

Sansa was too busy watching the poor mother to see who threw the dung. She turned to Joffrey a heartbeat before it hit his cheek and she could not stop the gasp from escaping her lips. As much as Joffrey deserved to be hit with dung, surely the man who threw it had to know that it would be death. For him and anyone who stood in the general area the dung had come from.

He wiped the dung from his cheek, but it did very little. It was still caked in his golden hair and some of it had splattered across her dress. She had so few dresses that still fit her that she hoped desperately that her handmaidens would be able to clean the stain.

"Who threw that?" Joffrey yelled, his head whipping around angrily.

Sansa tried to soothe him, she tried to explain to him that overreacting would only make the situation worse, but he would not listen to her. He was like a rabid dog. "I want the man who threw that!" he shouted. Sansa wondered who he was shouting to - his guards? Or the starving people around them. "A hundred golden dragons to the man who gives him up!"

"Please, Your Grace," Sansa begged, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd. "Let him go!"

Joffrey paid her no heed, "Bring me the man that flung that filth!" he commanded. "He'll lick it off me or I'll have his head. Dog, you bring him here!"

Sansa began to feel truly afraid when the Hound swung down off his horse to pursue the man. Sandor Clegane's face may have frightened her, but he had never done her any harm. And he had always protected Joffrey. What would happen if he left them?

The Imp yelled at the Hound, ordering him to leave it be. Telling him that the man had long since fled and he would never find him. But Joffrey just kept yelling, Sansa wanted to hit him, couldn't anyone tell him that his yelling was not going to make the situation any better? But still he yelled, "I want him!" he bellowed, turning on his uncle. "He was there! Dog, cut through them and bring -"

Wherever he wanted the man brought, whatever he wanted to do to him was cut off when the entire crowd began to close in around them, yelling. She could pick out different cries within the thunderous rage of the men and women.

"Bastard!" Someone screamed at Joffrey. "Bastard monster!"

Others called out, "Whore!" and "Brotherfucker!" at the Queen.

Tyrion faced cries of, "Freak" and "Halfman!"

Some cried for Justice. Some cried for Stannis. There was even a call for Renly.

She couldn't help the way her lips twitched up, despite the circumstances, when she heard someone in the crowd shout out, "Robb, King Robb, the Young Wolf!" At least one person in the crowd did not mean her any harm. Her head whipped side to side as she searched for that person, briefly wondering if they would be able to protect her and take her to her brother if she found them.

But more and more the people were calling out for food, for bread. They were starving. And it had been too much to ask them to stand by and watch as the well-fed royal party had rode past them, no doubt on their way to a well-cooked supper. "Bread!" they chanted, "Bread, bread, bread!"

She turned in her saddle, hoping someone would tell her what to do. She had never faced so much anger before. It threw her. The Imp spurred his horse to his sister's side, "Back to the castle," he ordered. "Now!" The Queen nodded and the guards closed in on the Queen, Tommen, and Joffrey. There were less guards to protect the Imp, but even he had someone with him when he rode past Sansa.

The rest of the guards were being used to hold back at least some of the crowd. There was no one left for her. Sansa meant to follow the Lannisters back to the Red Keep, but as she turned her head forward someone from the crowd reached up and grabbed onto her wrist. "I don't have any bread!" she yelled at them, her tone begging them to let her go.

They didn't though.

Instead they pulled her off her horse and into the chaos on the street below.

-.-.-.-.-

The Hound

He was furious. The King's orders to cut through them had angered the crowd to the point that they had swarmed him. No doubt planning to kill him. That did not anger him, he was always ready for a fight. What angered him, what made his blood boil was that from where he stood, surrounded by the angry crowd, he had a perfect view for the way the King's Guard closed in around Joffrey, his bitch mother, the young prince, and even the Imp.

They left the little bird to fend for herself as they rode like hell for the Red Keep.

He watched as a man wrapped his dirty hand around her wrist and pulled her from her horse. He fought his way through the crowd listening for her shrill screams as she begged to be let go, as she swore that she had no bread to give them.

The crowd pulled her horse down in a matter of seconds and used whatever they could to beat the beast to death. He looked for the red headed Queen to be, the man who had pulled her off her horse still had his grip around her wrist.

Sandor pushed forward toward the man, an angry growl rising in his throat as he lifted his sword and swung it down toward the ground, severing the man's hand in one bloody hack. Men around them began to close in on him again, outraged that he would kill one of them, but he did not care, his head whipped from side to side, at least a foot above most of the crowd, looking to catch a glimpse of the girl's red hair.

There she was, about ten feet away from him, ducking into a doorway, trying to find a safe place from the crowd. It was an ally way, the connected two streets in King's Landing. She was screaming as three men followed her into the ally.

He quickly made his way through the crowd, swinging his sword in wide, sweeping arcs, he was strong enough that he was hardly slowed down as he cut through people's bodies. His anger fueled him on. Mandon Moore was her shield, but the bloody coward had left her there in the crowd, alone, no doubt his excuse would be that the King needed him.

But the fucking King had started this mess. And it would be the little bird who paid for it.

He made it to the ally in mere minutes, though it had felt like hours and he quickly turned to enter it. Sing, Little Bird, he thought as he ran, his sword ready. Sing me a song so that I might follow your voice.

And sing she did, though it was a terrible song. Shrilly, at the top of her lungs she begged for the men to let her go, to not touch her. She screamed and cried, begged and pleaded. The only answer they gave her was the ripping fabric of her dress.

Sandor found them in a stall that usually housed horses. She was pinned to the ground, her back in the hay, one man held her arms, another her legs. The third was kneeling between her legs, untying his pants. The girl was too busy crying and thrashing to notice him, the men too wrapped up in their belief that they would rape a noblewoman that afternoon.

None of the four noticed him as he walked, quickly and silently further into the stall. He grabbed the man who meant to fuck her first by the shoulder and yanked him up until he was standing on his feet.

That still wasn't high enough. He readjusted his grip to the man's throat and lifted him higher, his feet hovering an inch or two off the ground and then with a grimace he shoved his sword into the man's belly, first in and then down, gutting the man. His intestines fell to the floor in front of Sandor's feet as he threw the man's body to the side and advanced on the other two men.

The one holding her feet was first, he hadn't turned around yet. The Stark girl watched him with wide eyes as he moved to stand behind the man and drove his sword through his back, so hard and so fast that the sword point poked out of his chest. The sword was stuck, Sandor lifted his right foot and pushed it into the man's back, forcibly pushing his body off the blade. He fell on his face on the straw covered floor, the blood quickly leaving his body.

The one who held down the young girl's arms had watched him murder the other two men and he thought that he could run. He stood up, quickly releasing the girl and tried to run past Sandor. But Sandor was faster, his left hand shot out, catching the man by the throat.

"Please!" the man choked out, as if he had not just ignored Little Bird's same pleas. As if he expected Sandor would listen to him.

Sandor smirked, his hand closing tighter around the man's neck as he dropped his sword and pulled out a knife. The blade of the knife slid through the skin on the back of the man's neck as if it were made of butter. And he slit the man's throat from back to front.

The Stark girl cried as he dropped the man's body and put the knife back in its place on his belt. Next he picked up his sword and put it back in its scabbard. Once his weapons were put away he turned back to look at her.

She was dirty and frightened. Her dress was ripped at her chest showing her corset and ripped from the hem to the waist, he could see her shift. She had a cut on her head. But, all in all, she was unharmed.

Terrified, but unharmed.

"You're alright now, Little Bird," he told her, moving closer to her and holding out his hand. "You're alright."

For the first time the girl touched him willingly. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her from the ground. She seemed shaky on her legs and Sandor did not want to waste time watching her trip her way back to the Red Keep, so he wrapped his arms around her legs, just above her knees and lifted her up, throwing her over his shoulder so that he could carry her one handed through the streets.

"I'll take care of you," he told her, softening his voice from its usual growl so as not to frighten her more, even as he drew his sword in his right hand so that he could fight if need be. "I'll get you back to the Keep. You watch."

And he did. He fought his way through the streets, it took him much longer than he thought it would, but they eventually made it to the cobbled square in front of the castle barbican. The gates had been closed and guards were attempting to hold the crowd back, but when they caught sight of Sandor they quickly pushed the crowd back, just enough to open the gate and allow him to enter.

He kept his grip on the Stark girl as he walked into the quieter square.

"There she is!" he heard the boy king yell and he turned to see Joffrey pointing at them.

But it was the Imp, not the king, who moved in to check on the little bird. "Lady Sansa?" the Imp asked, walking behind them and watching the girl carefully as Sandor lowered her to the ground. "Are you hurt?"

Without looking at him Sandor answered, "Little Bird is bleeding, someone take her back to her cage and see to that cut."

But before anyone could take her anywhere the girl was speaking. "They ... they were throwing things ... rocks and filth, eggs ... I tried to tell them, I had no bread to give them. I tried." She was crying, she stopped in the middle of her explanation to sniff back her tears. "A man pulled me from my saddle. The Hound killed him, I think ... his arm." Her eyes widened as she turned to look at Sandor, her hand covering her mouth, "He cut off his arm."

"Better his than yours, Little Bird," Sandor told her with a grim chuckle.

She shook her head, "I tried to get away, but three of them chased me to the stables off the market. They were ... they were going to ... they were going to ..."

She couldn't seem to finish her statement, Sandor decided to put her out of her misery. He knelt so that he was closer to her height as she sat on the floor and he dropped a heavy hand to her shoulder, "They were, but they didn't," he told her, his voice firm. "I saw to it that they never will again."

She nodded, still crying and when Sandor lifted his hand off her shoulder and stood several of her ladies crowded around her, making a fuss, as they stood her up and began to lead her to her room.

Still without looking at the Imp, Sandor told him the damage outside the gate. "They did for Santagar," he told the little man. "Four men held him down and took turns bashing at his head with a cobblestone. I gutted one, not that it did Ser Aron much good."

The Imp nodded, "Good," he told him.

"Flea Bottom's afire," Sandor continued as if he hadn't spoken.

The Imp turned to his sellsword, "Bronn, take as many men as you need and see that the water wagons are not molested. We can lose Flea Bottom if we must, but on no account must the fire reach the Guildhall of the Alchemists, is that understood?" He turned to Sandor, "Clegane, you'll go with him."

"Seven hells I will," Sandor growled at him, shoving past the man quickly.

The man could have had him punished for his insubordination, but a quick look over his shoulder told him that Tyrion Lannister understood why he would not go with the sellsword. Fire. Instead he nodded, "You did well, Clegane," he congratulated him.

Sandor looked away, shaking his head, "I didn't do it for you," he told the Imp with a growl.

And then he set off in search of Mandon Moore. By the time he was done with the knight Moore would understand what it meant to leave the little bird unguarded.

And Sandor would wager that he would never do it again.

-.-.-.-.-

Robb

"This cannot be true," Robb whispered, almost stuttering his words as he walked himself backwards into a chair in his tent. He had the parchment in his hands, he had read the words, and he still could not bring himself to believe it. He did not want to believe it. "This cannot be true," he repeated again, looking up at Roose for confirmation.

Roose looked sorry to be the bearer of the news, but he did not agree with Robb. Instead he nodded. "We've had ravens from White Harbour, Barrowtown, and the Dreadfort, Your Grace. I am afraid it is true."

Lenora had been in the back of the tent, finishing getting dressed for the day behind a curtain, but now she walked out, she finished tying the ribbon that would hold her braid as she walked and Robb was filled with the need to touch her. He reached out to her and she came readily, slipping her small hand into his with a concerned look on her face. "What is true?" she asked, looking between the two men, her concern growing.

Robb handed her the parchment in his hand and turned away from her as she paced back and forth in front of him and Roose, reading the letter, her concern getting more and more obvious the further she read.

"Why?" Robb demanded, not waiting for Lenora to finish the letter. He needed to understand why Theon had done this. "Why would Theon -?"

"Because the Greyjoys are treasonous whores," Roose interrupted his question before he could finish it. Lenora made a noise of agreement as she rolled up the parchment and handed it back to Robb. This surprised him, Lenora rarely agreed with Roose Bolton on anything.

"My brothers?" he asked, hoping foolishly that nothing had happened to his younger brothers.

Roose shook his head, "We've heard nothing of them," he told him. He looked between Robb and Lenora, his pale eyes softening a bit more. "But Rodrik Cassell is dead."

Lenora shook her head and paced away from them again, angrily. "Your mother told you to never trust a Greyjoy!" she fired at Robb when she turned to look at him. There was a fire in her grey eyes that he had never seen before. "I begged you not to send Theon to his father. I begged you."

"I know, Nora!" Robb fired back at her, just as angry at himself as she was. He should not have lashed out at her. This was far from her fault. And there was a part of him, behind all the anger that was touched at how angry she was on his behalf, how concerned she was for his brothers. He turned back to Roose, "I must go north at once," he told his general, beginning to stand up from his seat.

Lenora's hand was instantly on his shoulder, a gentle pressure, a restraint.

"There is still a war to win, Your Grace," Roose reminded him.

Robb laughed almost ruefully, "How can I call myself King if I can't hold my own castle?" he asked, looking between Lenora and Roose for an answer. "How can I ask men to follow me if -" he paused, shaking his head, "if one of my most trusted friends thinks he can take control of my castle and murder my people?"

Lenora dropped down to the ground in front of him, her skirts fanned out around her as she reached out for his right hand and held it between both of hers. "You are a King, Robb," she told him, her voice gentle and soft, but there was a determination to her face that made it look like steel.

Roose nodded, "Your Lady has the right of it, Your Grace," he told him. "You are our King. And that means you don't have to do everything yourself."

Lenora nodded, her eyes pleading him to see reason and listen to them. "Send your mother," she suggested, looking up to Roose to see if the man agreed. The lord raised his eyebrows, but did not say anything against her suggestion. She took that to mean she should continue. "She would not hesitate to go. She would talk to Theon, make him -"

"There will be no talk," Robb growled, his hand turning into a fist between Lenora's soft palms. "He will die for this."

Roose nodded, clearly preferring Robb's plan to Lenora's. "Theon holds the castle with a skeleton crew," he informed them. "Let me send word to my bastard son at the Dreadfort; he can raise a few hundred men and retake Winterfell before the new moon."

Robb felt Lenora stiffen in front him, but he let Roose continue.

"We have the Lannisters on the run; if you march all the way back north now, you lose what you gained. My boy would be honored to bring you Prince Theon's head."

Robb shook his head, finding one argument with Roose's suggestion. "Tell your son that Bran and Rickon's safety is paramount," he told Roose. "And Theon ... I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him 'Why?' and then I will take his head myself!"

Roose nodded and left the tent to do as he was bid. It was only after he had left that Robb turned to Lenora, noticing that she was still kneeling on the floor, stiff. He stood from his seat and held his hand out to her, silently pulling her off the ground. Once she was standing she quickly dropped his hand.

"You disagree with my reaction, My Lady?" he asked her.

She stared at him for a moment before her muscles softened and she shook her head. "I do not," she told him, her voice was quiet. "If my brothers were at Winterfell I would be as angry as you are." She shook her head, that wasn't what she had wanted to say, "That is not to say that I do not think of Bran and Rickon as my kin."

Robb shook his head, "I know that, Nora," he told her. "You sat by Bran's bed for days after my mother left for King's Landing. You told them both stories and sang them songs. You stayed up with Rickon on nights when he had nightmares. I know they are yours as much as they are mine. I know that."

Lenora nodded, silent.

"So, if not my reaction, then it is Theon's fate that you disagree with?"

Again she shook her head, "He should lose his head for this," she told him. "You should be the one to take it." She paused for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Robb fought the urge to reach out and pull her lip free with his thumb.

Even now, in the middle of a war, after his home had been sacked, and his brother's fate unknown - she still had an effect on him.

"It's your method that I disagree with," she finally told him.

"My method?" Robb asked, raising his eyebrows.

She nodded as she looked back toward the tent flaps, as if to make sure that no one could hear their conversation. "Surely you have heard the tales of him," she whispered, looking back at Robb, her eyes beseeching him to agree with her.

"Of Roose?" Robb asked her.

She shook her head, "No his bastard," she hissed.

"I haven't," Robb told her.

"Even I have heard them in King's Landing," Lenora told him, shaking her head as if she were disappointed in him. "There are horrible men the world over who do horrible things and no one ever hears about them. But there are certain things that cannot be hidden, certain things that the smallfolk whisper about. Bolton's bastard is one of them."

Robb chuckled and shook his head, taking Lenora's warning for what it was - a woman's fear based on gossip. "Do you really believe every whisper of gossip you hear, my love?" he asked her, reaching out to stroke her cheek. Her jaw clenched and for a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, but then her shoulders slumped, she realized that she was fighting a losing battle. He was quiet, watching her, "Do you think he would hurt the boys?" he asked.

Lenora shook her head, "Not the boys," she told him. "Not if it would anger Lord Bolton. They are safe from him."

"Then why do you worry so?" Robb asked her, lifting his thumb up to smooth out the worry line between her eyebrows.

"I would not want that man in Winterfell performing acts in my name that I had no control over," Lenora told him, her eyes never leaving his. She looked away for a moment and shook her head as if a thought had just occurred to her. "Your poor mother," she whispered. "First Ned, then your sisters, and now Winterfell and your brothers. I cannot imagine."

He saw a tear sliding down her cheek and he reached out to wipe it away with the pad of her thumb, "You can imagine, Nora," he told her, his voice a whisper. "You have lost one too."

Her jaw clenched, her shoulders tensed. But she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. Perhaps she could imagine what Catelyn Stark was feeling.

"Write to her," Robb urged her. "She would appreciate hearing from you."

"She would rather hear from you," Lenora told him, glancing up at him pointedly, but she nodded. "I will write to her though."

...

A week later after they had sent Ser Cleos back to Riverrun with his escort another rider from Riverrun was taken by their scouts, this one carried only a letter they had received by raven, this one from one of their spies in King's Landing.

As it concerned her family the rider had brought it straight to Lenora. After reading it she had sent for Robb immediately. She wasn't in their tent when he went to look for her though, instead she was walking around the camp. She did not seem to have a destination in mind, but he could tell that the movement helped calm her down.

"What was the news from the capitol?" he asked her once he had found her and fell into stride beside her.

"There was a riot in the streets," Lenora told him, her face was pale, she was visibly shocked by what she had read. "My mother and uncle Tyrion sent Myrcella to Dorne. She is to marry the Prince's son once they are of age. The royal party saw her off and as they made their way back to the Red Keep a riot broke out."

Robb's blood ran cold as he thought of his sister. As Joffrey's betrothed there was no doubt in his mind that Sansa would have been part of that party. "Was Sansa?" he asked, unable to form the words for the rest of his question.

"She was part of the party," Lenora told him, reaching out to grab his hand, knowing that he would need her support. "She was pulled from her horse, but all reports say that she is fine."

Robb was still tense, a growl rose in his throat, "I am no King," he told her, shaking his head. Lenora turned to look at him, no doubt ready to argue with him, but Robb shook his head, "I cannot protect my younger sisters, I cannot protect my younger brothers, I cannot protect my home." He looked at her, his hand reaching out for her face. She allowed him to cup her cheek in his hand, "It will not be long until I am unable to protect you," he told her, his voice rueful.

Lenora shook her head, though she left her cheek in his hand. "You are a king," she told him, her voice determined. "You are kind, and good, and just. You will be able to save your younger sisters, you will be able to protect your younger brothers, you will be able to protect your home."

"And what of you?" Robb asked her, his fight leaving him little by little at her determination.

She frowned, "I never needed your protection," she told him.

She was joking, of course, Robb smiled, but there was still a sadness in her eyes. "What else?" he asked her.

She shook her head, "Nothing else from the raven," she told him. "It's just ... Joff is no king. He is cruel, he enjoys hurting people. He instigated the riot. And for now, he is in control of the Seven Kingdoms." She shook her head, looking away from him for a moment. "What if that is the price?" she asked him. "For her and Jaime's sins?"

And then Robb realized what bothered her so much. She was worried that if Joffrey was so cruel and it was a punishment for Cersei and Jaime's affair then what could be wrong with her other siblings. "The Targaryens -" he started, meaning to soothe her even though he thought that what her mother and uncle had done was unforgivable.

Lenora laughed at him, closing her eyes for a moment, "My uncle tried to give me that same excuse when I accused him," she told him before she shook her head. "The Targaryens wed brother and sister for hundreds of years. But half of them went mad, didn't they? What was the saying? Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin?"

"They didn't flip a coin with your Myrcella or Tommen," Robb told her, trying to boost her spirit. "They seem to be decent."

"They're twelve and eight," Lenora told him. "Of course they seem decent."

"Was Joffrey decent at that age?" Robb asked, determined to make his point. Lenora shook her head. Robb nodded, "There you go, they have beaten the odds then."

Lenora smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder, "I do not know what I would do without you," she whispered.

Robb smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Well we're married, Nora," he told her, sure that she could hear the smile in his voice. "So fortunately for you, you will never have to know."

Author's Note:

There you go! A fact I bet you didn't know about yours truly, the author. I'm a Cleveland girl, born and raised. And because of that ... I'm a Cavs fan. And because of that I am a LeBron James fan (and not just because he's amazing).
I am convinced that the word fanatic was created to describe how my dad feels about basketball. And when I was younger he heard these stories about this kid down in Akron that was supposedly fantastic. I was in the sixth grade and one day he took me out of school early so that we could drive down to Akron to watch an eighteen year old LeBron James play high school basketball. And I was hooked. I told my dad I was going to marry him (obviously I didn't ... he's happily married to someone else).
He broke my heart when he left us for Miami, to this day I have been to that city and I never will.
I moved away, but in 2014 when he came back to Cleveland my friends threw me a party complete with cupcakes with his face on them. And last year I took off three days of work so that I could come home and bring my dad to the victory parade. We bawled like babies.
It probably seems a bit obsessive, my love affair with LeBron James but you have to understand what this man has done for my city. When I was young Cleveland was known as the "Mistake on the lake" and there's a part of me that can't even blame them for that name. All three of our sports teams sucked, our river was on fire, you didn't go anywhere at night if you didn't want to get stabbed.
But the Cleveland my parents live in today is not the Cleveland I grew up in. And ask anybody, from the Uber driver I had two months ago when my dad and I went to a game to kids on the street, to me, to the thousands of screaming fans at the Q for yesterday's game ... it's all due to one LeBron James.
And now you probably know way too much about my obsessive love of Cleveland and its basketball team. If you're still here ... thank you for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it.
Feel free to leave a review (unless you're a pacers fan in which case I don't want to talk to you until after game four of the series ... at least).
HUGE thanks to those of you who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are my heros too ... just on a different level. You are more around the JR Smith or Kevin Love level.

RHatch89: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!

Guest: I'm so glad that you liked the chapter and that you love Robb and Lenora. I love them too!
As for whether or not Robb is going to die ... I can't tell you. But I promise that I love love stories so this will be your happy fanfic

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! Here's your new update!

HPuni101: Happy Easter! You're welcome for an awesome chapter and I hope that this chapter was equally as awesome. I'm really excited for where I'm taking this story and I cannot wait for you guys to join me in the knowing.
Until then I will give you this: Tywin and Cersei will definitely be looking for a way arrange for Lenora to be brought back to them. At this point it does not look like she will be going willingly though.

writingNOOB: One chapter closer until you see how I wrote him! I hope I did him justice. You guys will have to let me know!
When it comes to Cersei and Lenora and Joffrey if it was just the two of them I don't think that Cersei would be able to choose between them, they're both her children after all. But she's got to look out for herself and Tommen and Myrcella. Because of Stannis she cannot choose Lenora without practically throwing herself and her other three children to the wolves (pun intended there) so she has to choose Joffrey.
I loved Tywin in the last chapter. And I like to think that it wasn't completely out of character. You see it on the show, he respects Arya, likes her even, because she's smart. I don't think he was always this stone hearted man. He loved his wife and in my head the twins got to see a softer side of him than Tyrion ever did because Tyrion killed his mother. Tywin never remarried because he loved his first wife so much. So he got harder after Tyrion was born, hated him for it. But then comes Lenora, this little girl whose mother tried to kill her. That would soften Tywin. And when the girl turned out to be smart, he'd love her for it. He's never going to be the soft, mushy type, but he can love.
And I cannot wait for the scene, think season three, when Tywin is "counseling" Joffrey. I have that in my outline with TYWIN written in big letters and underlined. You guys are going to get to read exactly how much of a "little shit" he thinks his grandson is.
I'm glad you like the different perspectives. No one has ever mentioned that before, but when I started the outline I knew I had to do it. There's just so much happening in the Seven Kingdoms and Lenora can't know it all. So they help move the plot along and they give you guys insight into not only Lenora, but her relationship with Robb that you might not have gotten otherwise.

Raging Raven: Thank you dear!

That's all I've got for now!
Perhaps I will be back tomorrow with more, though I've got a basketball game to watch.
Chloe Jane.