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Chapter Thirty-Three: You Are a Wolf

Arya

She had to do it. Something had not felt right. They had been whispering at Harrenhal for days about how Lord Roose Bolton was on the march, getting closer every day. The Mountain, who Lord Tywin Lannister had left in control of the castle had not stayed for long before Lord Tywin sent word that he was needed in the Riverlands. He had left barely anyone at Harrenhal, just enough Lannister to soldiers to ensure that none of the castle folk and prisoners escaped. He did not leave enough to defend the castle against an attack.

And Roose Bolton meant to attack. They all knew it.

He was her brother's bannerman, the soldiers he brought were her brother's men. She could have stayed at Harrenhal and when they arrived she could have told him who she was, there was sure to be someone in the party who could confirm her identity. They would have brought her straight to her brother's camp, or her mother at Riverrun.

But something had not felt right.

And Arya Stark had survived this long using her gut.

When something did not feel right, she left.

When someone made her uncomfortable, she left.

When she was scared and frightened, she reminded herself that she was a wolf and she fought.

She had to leave Harrenhal, she knew that much, though she was unsure of why she had to bring these two with her.

The sky was dark above them, just as black as the walls of Harrenhal, if she turned in her saddle she would still be able to see the dark castle walls behind them, the castle was so large that it loomed over them, even now.

She did not turn.

The rain was falling, soft enough to see through, but steady. It muffled the sound of the horses' hooves and ran down her face.

It was cold.

She had set their path north, away from the lake. At the moment they were following a rutted farm road across the torn fields and into the woods and streams. Since she was the most comfortable on a horse she had taken the lead, kicking her stolen horse into a brisk trot, going as fast as she could with those two following behind her until the trees closed in behind them, hiding them from any watchful eyes in the castle.

Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. Though, she would have moved faster without them.

She should have left them.

She could leave them now.

But she didn't. No one spoke; Arya because she was worried of who or what their voices would attract, the boys because they were too afraid of what they had seen at the castle.

The boys were stupid.

Once they were in the woods and she would not be able to see the castle when she turned around she would look, from time to time, over her shoulder. She wanted to see if the boys had fallen from their horses (they hadn't) or if they were being followed (they weren't).

They would be pursued, she knew that much. It would have been one thing if they had just left. That might have gone unnoticed, that might have kept them safe. But she had killed a man, they had stolen steel, and horses. They would be followed.

Someone would find that guard with his throat slashed open, lying dead in his own blood and the cry would go out. They would send someone after the murderer. They would send someone after the traitor.

Arya Stark meant to be as far as possible from Harrenhal before that happened.

That would only work if the boys could just keep up.

She should have left them. But she had needed something from each of them. She had needed a sword from Gendry in the forge, he could not have given her one without being caught. She had to take him. And she needed food from Hot Pie in the kitchens, he would have been beaten if he had been caught. It was not as bad as dead, but she could not let Hot Pie get beaten for helping her, she had to take him as well.

Those were the lies she told herself, much like the names on her list that she whispered every night before she fell asleep. She would never be able to kill Cersei or Joffrey. And she would not have left the boys at Harrenhal without her, even if she could have gotten everything she needed without their help.

They had ridden for the Wall from King's Landing with her. They had seen Yoren die with her. And Lommy too.

And Gendry had kept her secret. He had sworn that he would not tell a soul that she was Arya Stark of Winterfell and he had kept his word.

They were her friends.

And at the moment they were the closest thing to family that she had.

So she had brought them. Though, she wished, that she could have brought Jaqen H'ghar with her as well, but the man was lost to her now. He had left her with nothing but a funny little coin. Though, the coin had already had its use, Arya could admit to that. "Valor Morghulis," Arya murmured quietly, testing out the words on her tongue to make sure that she had not forgotten them.

She hadn't, but she knew she wouldn't.

They were important.

Gendry had put up a fight when she first woke him and told him to steal her a sword. But she had been sure that he would listen to her. They were friends after all.

She should have killed that stable boy though, the one who had helped her saddle and bridle the horses. She had told him that the Bloody Mummers had asked for three horses, he was half asleep and his listened to her, if he had been anymore awake he would have told her no. She hoped that they would not hurt him in the morning when they saw the three missing horses, but she knew they would. She should have killed him, quick and painless.

She regretted that.

She had waited for what felt like hours for the boys to join her near the Ghost Tower at the postern gate. She was about to leave without them, sword and food be damned when they finally arrived. They moved louder than she did, if they were not careful they would be caught.

There was still the guard at the gate to take care of. Arya told the boys to stay with the horses, that she would take care of the guard. Hot Pie told her to hoot like an owl when she was ready for them to join her.

That was a stupid idea. "I am not an owl," Arya had told him, a bit indignant. "I am a wolf. I'll howl."

When she had walked toward the gate and the guard she walked quickly, to keep ahead of her fear. And it was as though Syrio Forel walked beside her, and Yoren, and Jaqen H'ghar, and Jon Snow. She reached behind her to the small of her back where she kept the newly stolen dagger, for a moment she thought maybe even the warrior princess Lenora walked beside her as well.

There was only one guard at the postern gate, but there would be sentries walking the wall. She knew one thing for certain, he must not call out. She would have to be fast, like a snake.

She made no effort to hide, but approached the guard openly as if she had been sent on someone's orders. He watched her come, curious as to what might bring a page to the dark gate at such a black hour. He was wearing chain mail underneath his fur cloak, she did not know if she would be able to drive her dagger through the steel into his heart. It would be his throat she went after.

"Lord Vargo sent me," she told him, naming the leader of the Bloody Mummers, once she was close enough that he would be able to hear her quiet voice.

"At this hour?" the guard had asked, he was suspicious. "Why for?"

"He told me to give all his guards a silver piece," she told him, "for their good service."

He did not believe her, but he wanted to. And that was enough for her plan to work. He demanded the silver. She fumbled her way into her tunic and pulled out the coin that Jaqen had given her. It was not silver, but in the dark it would pass as such. She held it out to him and as he reached to grab it she let it slip from her fingers to the ground.

Her cursed her as he knelt to the ground, groping in the dark for the coin. His neck was there, waiting for her dagger. Arya slid her dagger out and drew it across his throat, the skin cut like butter. His blood covered her hands in a warm rush. He tried to shout, but he could not call out.

There was blood in his mouth.

"Valor Morghulis," she had whispered as he died.

Once he stopped moving a wolf had howled somewhere beyond the gate. She knelt to pick up the coin and put it back in her tunic. By the time she stood Gendry and Hot Pie had brought the horses.

They did not question her again once they passed the gates. Whatever they thought, it was clear that they believed that she knew what she was doing.

She looked down at her hands, they clutched tight to the reins. The night was dark, there was no moon and even if there had been it would not have shone on her through the thick trees.

But all the same, she was sure that she could still see the guard's blood on her hands.

-.-.-.-.-

Robb

"You'll want to hit at night," Lenora told him from her seat across the table from him.

"You said that their garrison was small," Robb argued. "You said they were outmanned. You said that they could not even afford to repair the defenses on their own castle." These were all things she had told him about the Crag, the seat of House Westerling. They were all also reasons for why they could storm the Crag in the daylight.

And Robb so desperately wanted to fight in the daylight. He had not yet fought a single battle in the sun.

Lenora seemed to sense his desire, it was as if she could read it on his face, "And you miss fighting in the light?" she asked him, cooing at him as a woman might coo at a baby or a small child.

He huffed, a bit annoyed, he had asked for her help planning the attack because he trusted her. And with Roose Bolton marching to take Harrenhal he had needed someone with a good, strong battle mind to help him plan. He had not asked her to help him so that she could laugh at him.

She smiled at him, no longer teasing him, but sympathetic. "I know, my love," she told him, her voice gentle. "I know how it must feel, all this sneaking around in the darkness. You must think that it is cowardly."

Robb nodded, surprised that she was so easily able to guess at what he felt. He had not expected that.

Lenora nodded, silently watching him for a moment before she continued, "But you must see that it is the smartest plan. The Westerlings will only be guarding the Crag with a garrison, it is true. And they cannot afford to repair their castle's defenses, also true. And compared to the six thousand men you bring with you they are outmanned. But if you wait until daylight they will be able to see you coming. They can reach out for help."

"From who?" Robb argued. "Ashemark? We have that?"

Lenora laughed, "From who?" she asked. "How about from Banefort or Sarsfield or the Golden Tooth, Lannisport, Casterly Rock itself?" She shook her head, leaning across the table to get closer to him. "They know what you're doing now. They know that you are attacking around the Rock to draw my Grandfather out of the Riverlands and to meet you here, so that the bulk of the damage is done to his own lands. It's an intelligent plan, but an obvious one. You don't think any of the other unconquered vassal houses might be willing to send some men here, to the Crag, to meet you far away from their own House seats. It would be an excellent reward for them if they could beat you here with little to no damage done to their own lands."

Robb nodded, he could see the value in what she had to say.

Lenora smiled at him once she was sure that he would listen to her. "But march through the night, attack before dawn. They won't have time to ask for help." She reached across the table and grabbed his hand, holding it between her own. "I know that you want to fight in the daylight," she told him again, her voice sympathetic. "But you are a wolf. And when does a wolf hunt its prey?"

Robb sighed, she had him and judging by the smile on her face she knew it, "At night," he told her, rolling his eyes as her smile widened into a cheeky grin.

"During the hour of the wolf," she told him with a nod. "It's your hour. I am just asking you to use it."

Robb nodded at her and grinned, "How lucky I am that you are on my side," he told her, standing from his chair so that he could lean across the table and press a kiss against her smiling lips. "I would have lost this war if you were with Lord Tywin."

Lenora shrugged her shoulders, a rueful smile resting on her lips, "As much fun as my grandfather had planning battles with me he would never ask for my advice or my counsel." She shook her head, "No," she told him. "If I were with Lord Tywin he would have already married me off to one of his Lords and sent me safely away from any battles."

Robb smiled at her, wide and wolfish, "Then," he said, "how lucky you are that you are on my side."

"Yes," Lenora told him with a bemused smile. "How lucky I am."

Robb chuckled at her as he sat back down in his seat. "And how would you have the battle go, Nora?" he asked her.

"Have Smalljon Umber and Black Walder Frey lead scaling parties over the walls," she told him. "At different entry points, near the two side gates. The castle is on a cliff overlooking the Sunset Sea, it does not have a postern gate."

"And what would you have me do?" he asked her.

"Take your main force and break through the main gate with a battering ram. With your men coming from the sides and you from the front - you will make quick work of the garrison and the castle will be yours. Useless as that will be."

"Useless?" Robb asked, chuckling. "Useless? I will have another castle. I will have captured another Lannister bannerman. I would not call it useless."

Lenora shook her head, "You will get no herd animals from the Westerings. You will get no gold or silver. You will get very few men, mostly prisoners. And as far as my Grandfather goes - he did not come to you after Oxcross. He did not come to you when you sacked Ashemark. He does not care enough about the Westerlings to come give them their castle back. He will not come to you now."

"Perhaps not," Robb agreed with her. "And perhaps he will not come to me when I take the next vassal seat either. But eventually he will have to. And when he does I mean to have control over all of his western lands."

Lenora watched him for a moment, her grey eyes narrowed as she thought about what he said. Finally she nodded, "Just so," she told him. Two little words that he had come to realize meant that she approved.

He nodded too, "Just so," he repeated, grinning at her when a smile spread across her lips. "Now, Nora, come here," he told her, trying to force his voice to sound strong and determined though it was hard to do when he was grinning so widely.

"Why?" Lenora asked, staying in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest defiantly.

"Because all of this talk of war has made my blood rise," he told her, moving across the table so that he could lift her into his arms and carry her toward their bed. "And I mean to have you at least twice before I march to another battle."

She laughed, light as air, "Just so," she whispered, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth before he threw her onto the bed.

She giggled as he crawled up the bed to hover over her, his hands on either side of her head holding him up so that he did not crush her. He looked down at her, his brow purposefully furrowed. "What?" she asked, her own brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"I just realized something," he told her, staring down at her. "You forgot one thing with all your planning."

Lenora raised her right eyebrow, "I did?" she asked. "And what is that?"

"Where you will be during the battle."

She shook her head, "Waiting," she told him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "With the Silent Sisters." Robb shook his head silently. Lenora watched him and mimicked, shaking her own head though she was less sure than he was, "I won't be waiting with the Silent Sisters?" she asked.

"No," Robb told her, his voice determined. He had been thinking about this for a few weeks. Lenora seemed satisfied with helping the Silent Sisters but he knew she longed to be part of the battle. She was the best swordsman he had ever seen. The battle at the Crag would be an easy one, she was not the only one who seemed to think so, many of his bannermen believed the surrender would come easy. And with Roose Bolton marching to Harrenhal she had just lost the biggest opposition to her fighting on the field. Robb would worry about her, yes, but as far as battles went this one would be the gentlest.

"Where will I be?" she asked. She bit her lip, she no doubt knew what she hoped his answer would be, but she did not want to guess and be disappointed when she guessed wrong.

"Where would you like to be?" Robb asked her.

She thought for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth before her eyes darted up to his face, shining silver. "The main gate," she told him. "With you."

Robb nodded, "Done."

Her eyes widened, she had not expected that. "Really?" she asked him. "Truly?"

He nodded, "You'll have Grey Wind of course," he told her. "Between the two of us you will be safe enough."

She didn't care about Grey Wind though. Her hands flew to his cheeks and framed his face, pulling him down on top of her so that she could press her lips to his in a harsh kiss.

...

He did as she suggested, the Smalljon and Black Walder were given scaling parties, five hundred men each. They were to scale the walls and kill any guards or archers they came upon before climbing down the other side and onto the castle grounds. Here they would split, Black Walder's men would move toward the back of the castle grounds, looking for anyone who meant to run away or hide. The Smalljon would move toward the front of the castle grounds to meet Robb who would lead the force from the gate in.

Allowing her to take part in the battle had made Lenora so happy. But as he sat on his horse there with his small wife riding beside him Robb felt nervous. What if he had made a mistake allowing her to join him? What if something happened to her. She was wearing pants again and a tunic. She did not have much in the way of armor, only a breastplate. It was the same small, feminine looking one that she had packed at Winterfell so many months before.

He shifted in his saddle and she turned to look at him, "Something wrong?" she asked him. It was still dark, but off to the East, if he squinted the sky seemed to beginning to grey with the dawn. They were waiting for the signal from the Smalljon or Black Walder that they had scaled the walls.

He shook his head, "I wish you would have worn mail," he told her. As his squire was dressing him for battle he had begged Lenora to put on a chainmail shirt over her tunic but she had fought him on it every time.

And she fought him now. "I can't move as well in mail," she told him. "One of my advantages is that I am small and fast. Faster than anyone in armor would be. Mail would only slow me down." She was right, he could not argue with her. If anyone knew what would be most to her advantage it was Lenora. But she looked so small beside him, so easy to kill without any armor. She had turned away from him, but it was as if she could feel his eyes on her. "Stop worrying," she ordered him. "I will be fine."

He nodded, and turned away from her. "How's the horse?" he asked. He had lent her a horse because the girl loved Casterly too much to bring him into battle. The horse was made for it, big and strong, but Lenora could not bear the thought of him dying. Robb had laughed when she told him that, and she had acted as if he were crazy when he had said the same thing about her.

She shifted in the saddle, "Slower than Cas," she told him honestly. "I don't know this one, and he does not know me. It will take a while for us to understand each other." She nodded, "But he will do."

"Good," Robb told her. He wanted to say more, he wanted to beg her to change her mind, but there was no time. A moment later they heard it, the war horn. One of the scaling parties had made it to the top of the wall surrounding the castle.

Lenora turned to look at him, her left hand tightening on her reins as her right hand reached for her sword. "I love you," she told him. "Come back to me safe and whole."

Robb nodded, "I love you," he told her as well. "And you better do the same."

Then he rode away from her to rally his men, riding back and forth in front of them and shouting any last minute commands. Then when he was sure they were ready he turned to face the castle, his sword held high overhead, "Winterfell!"

They charged, most on horses though there were many men on foot, carrying the battering ram that would be used to smash open the main gate. When he got to the gate Robb commanded those carrying the battering ram. "One, two, three," he yelled, on three the men swung the ram into the gate, the wood and iron buckled under the force, but did not break. "Again!" Robb yelled, listening to the sounds of shouts from the wall above him.

Some of the shouts came from his own men. Others were the Westerling garrison, trying to organize. Lenora had been right, attacking at night had been best. As his men swung the ram again he looked around over his shoulder for Lenora. She was a ways behind him, atop her horse, his direwolf at her side. He nodded at the wolf as the ram hit the gate again, some of the wood splintering, leaving a gash in the wood, the wolf would keep her safe.

Three more swings it took to break the gate open. And then Robb led his men into the castle grounds. There were a fair number of soldiers waiting for them, but nothing compared to Oxcross or the Whispering Wood. Very few horses. Robb's force, most of them horsed, would cut through these men in quick time.

He spared one more look for Lenora before he began his attack. He could not see her.

His horse galloped forward, knocking a man to the ground and trampling him under his hooves. Robb pulled the visor of his helm down over his eyes and began to fight, swinging his sword at the men standing below him. From his horse his sword swung at neck level, quickly taking off a man's head in a spurt of blood.

-.-.-.-.-

Lenora

Of all the things she had learned of war since Robb had marched her from Winterfell, the most surprising to her was that she hated fighting from a horse. She was too high from the ground which might have worked for some men, but it did not work for her. When she had practiced with her uncle he had never trained her on a horse. She was used to fighting a man on her feet, dancing around him and looking in his eyes as she won the fight. It was taking her too long to get used to the horse, she did not have the freedom she had on her feet and she seemed to be injuring more men than she killed. From her time with the Silent Sisters she knew just how much pain an injured man could be in so after a few minutes she jumped down from her horse.

Once both of her feet were on the ground she felt much more sure of herself.

A man ran at her from the left, his sword held with both hands over his head intent on swinging the sword down and cutting her in half from the top of her head to her feet. Lenora had no more than a second to react. She threw her sword up, above her head, her right hand held the handle, her left hand the blade.

When the man swung his sword down the blade hit hers, driving the edge into her left palm and cutting it open, but it saved her head. With a grunt Lenora extended her arms, pushing the man and his sword away from her. He seemed bewildered as Lenora advanced on him, her sword ready. He swung again, this time from the left and Lenora swung her sword arm out, catching the edge of the man's blade and sending it flying from his hand. He should have kept both hands on the handle, she thought as she advanced on the now weaponless man. He had not been comfortable with a sword, he did not know how to hold it. He did not know how to keep it.

He fell to his knees, begging like a child for her mercy. Asking her to spare him his life for the love he bore for her family. For a moment she hesitated, and then she saw it, the way his hand was moving at his side, searching for his sword. He meant to distract her, and once he had found his sword he meant to kill her. She felt very little regret when she pulled her sword arm back, just for a moment before she extended it, the point of her sword cutting through the man's vocal cords and throat. It was too easy, the movement was smooth like summer silk, his throat opened as easily as a warm roll. The blood that spurted onto her face was warm and smelled metallic. He made a gurgling noise as she pulled her sword from his throat, she could see the blood bubbling in the hole she had just created in his throat. And then he fell to the ground. If he was not dead yet, he would be soon.

She heard a growl behind her and she turned just in time to see Grey Wind jump on a Crag man who had been moving in on her. The wolf had been watching out for her, but she realized she would have to be faster, more in tune with her senses from now on. She could not stand still and watch every man die, it left her unprotected.

She spun looking around her to make sure that no man meant to attack her. She did not seem in immediate danger at the moment, so she moved forward to look for some. All around her she could hear the sounds of battle. Steel clashing against steel, horses whining and dying, men dying. There were archers on the wall, firing down into the fight below. Where were the Smalljon and Black Walder? They were supposed to be killing them.

Lenora moved toward the wall, running beside it until she found a narrow flight of stairs that would bring her to the top. If she had Bran's skills she would have simply climbed the wall. But that boy had been special. With a quick look over her shoulder to make sure that no one was following her she darted up the stairs to the wall. The archers were slow, they had to take the time to nock each arrow. They had to aim. Lenora kept low, ran quickly, zig zagged as she made her way along the top of the wall.

She stabbed the first archer she encountered in the stomach, he was wearing mail and she was unable to cut through the metal shirt. The man had the nerve to laugh at her and that was what drove Lenora to anger. She growled, low in her throat as she ducked a little lower and drove her shoulder into the man's side, grinning when she knocked him off balance and onto the ground. Then she stood, and used her right foot to kick him in the ribs and off the wall to the yard below.

The second one was a little cleaner. He had his arrow nocked, his bow drawn, he was aiming for her, but she was too close, she swung her sword, knocking the man's bow off its target, sending his arrow shooting away from her. As he reached for another arrow she moved in on him.

There was another archer behind him, ready for her, she could see the man over the first archer's shoulder. She grabbed the man's arm and with her sword pressed against his back, just below his shoulder blade, she used the man as a shield. When the second archer loosed his arrow it hit his companion in the chest. Lenora shoved her body shield forward, away from her and moved forward, quickly stabbing the third archer in his stomach. This one did not have mail, Lenora wrapped both of her hands around the handle of her sword, flinching when her left hand burned in pain and groaned as she pulled the blade upward, cutting the man open from his belly button to the bottom of his ribs. He fell when she pulled her sword out.

She did not see the man coming, but she heard him. He yelled as he rushed at her from behind, using his shield to hit the back of her head and knock her out.

As much as she fought the darkness, it came anyway.

...

She began to wake up to the sound of someone calling to her. It wasn't Robb, he would not have called her Your Grace or Queen Lenora. She frowned and tried to wave them off, she wanted Robb. There was a shooting pain in her left hand, she grimaced. "That's right, Little Queen," the voice encouraged her. "It's time to wake up."

She opened her eyes and squinted against the sunlight, trying to determine who had woken her up. It was a man, a big one, and he was grinning at her. The Smalljon.

"You gave us quite a scare, Your Grace," he told her as he knelt at her side. "To come to this part of the wall and find you laying on the ground. I did not want to be the one to tell King Robb that you had died."

Lenora nodded, forcing a grim smile on her lips, "But I didn't," she told him, just in case he needed the extra reassurance.

"No you did not," he agreed. "You're made of tougher stuff than that. No man is going to kill you with just a shield. Knock you out, maybe, but it won't kill you."

"Did we win?" Lenora asked him.

"Aye, Little Queen, we won. They didn't have many men. That wolf tore apart a knight that had been serving the family for almost twenty years, right in front of their eldest daughter. And with Lord Gawen already King Robb's prisoner it did not take much for his son and the castellan to surrender. They did it shortly after I found you, after you went on an archer rampage."

He was laughing at her, she could tell. Though he was not teasing her. The large Northman wouldn't say it, but he was proud to have a Queen like her. She started to sit up, grimacing when she tried to push off her left hand and it protested in pain. "Well someone had to do your job," she told him, teasing him back.

"It's a shame that you did not get up here sooner," the Smalljon told her.

Her eyebrows furrowed, "Why?" she asked him, confused.

He seemed surprised that she had to ask. "You didn't see it?" he asked her. "From what I heard it happened not far from you and that wolf." Lenora shook her head, whatever she hadn't seen was bad, she could tell. The Smalljon looked down at the ground as if afraid to give her the news, "I'm sorry, Your Grace," he told her. "King Robb took an arrow through the arm," he told her. "Soon after entering the gate. He fought bravely, despite the wound."

Lenora shook her head violently, it hurt, she groaned when she lifted her hand to find a gash at the base of her skull, when she pulled her hand away it back bloody, though none of that mattered if the Smalljon was about to tell her that her husband was dead. He watched her for a moment, his face grim before his face split into a grin, "He's alright, Your Grace," he told her. "The maester is seeing to him now."

Lenora nodded and using her right hand she pushed herself to her feet, she stumbled a bit, dizzy and the Smalljon reached out a hand to the small of her back to steady her. "I will go see him as well," she told him.

The Smalljon shook his head, "Forgive me, Your Grace," he told her. "But I would see you to the maester before you go to the king." Lenora wanted to argue, but the Smalljon continued speaking, "You were knocked unconscious. Your head is bleeding, your left hand is cut almost to the bone. The sight of you as you are now would not help the king heal. Let the maester see to your wounds first, then see the king."

Lenora sighed, she wanted to argue with him, but she could see that he had the right of it. "He's being taken good care of?" she asked him. She needed to know that before she agreed to wait to see him. If he was alone, or asking for her, she would not be able to leave him until she was fixed up. She would go to him, bloody and beaten, and take care of him herself.

The Smalljon nodded, "Lady Jeyne Westerling is seeing to that, Your Grace."

Lenora rolled her eyes, the Westerlings had surrendered. They were no doubt looking for a way to maintain their lands after the war ended. It would not matter to them that Robb had a wife, they would try to tempt him with their daughter. She could not blame them, many other Houses in the Seven Kingdoms would do that before the end of the war. "I am sure she is," she murmured, her tone dark.

The Smalljon nodded, "Of course, Your Grace," he told her. He paused, his eyes darting away from her. There was something else too. Before she could ask the lord answered. "There's been a raven, as well. It was sent from Riverrun to Ashemark. A rider brought it here," he told her. Lenora raised her eyebrows, wondering why he was telling her. "They have news," he said. "From Winterfell."

Author's Note:

Oh I was excited for this chapter for so many reasons. First of all, I loved writing Arya's point of view of her escape from Harrenhal. She's not a killer yet, she's a sullen angry little girl who can't decide if she wants to stay with her companions or not and I had so much fun writing it!
And then there was the storming of the Crag. I was really excited to demonstrate how good Lenora is at planning things. Jaime taught her how to fight and Tywin taught her how to plan. And in this chapter you got to see both.
And I had been waiting for the Crag for a while, despite Robb's injury it was probably one of the easier battles he fought in the Westerlands. I wanted Lenora to fight, but I needed an easy battle for get her feet wet in, you know? And the Crag delivered.
Moving on! I have a poll on my profile page that you all should take. In the poll I reduce this story to little more than a romance, which hurt a bit because it's definitely not just a romance. But anyway, you guys are all stressing out about Robb and I am curious about how many of you think he and Lenora are going to make it to the end of the story.
So leave a review here and then go take the poll there. I will wait.

RHatch89: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

writingNOOB: Oh no! Don't be mad at Robb! He did not cheat on her. If you were to go back a few chapters to when Robb is teaching Lenora to shoot an arrow at Riverrun, before she tells him she's pregnant (and subsequently loses said baby) she asks him about women he's been with and he teasingly names a couple. All who happened before Lenora came to Winterfell. So yes, they were betrothed, but they were not married yet. I'm basing that over the fact that its cannon that the boys went to Winter Town and they all knew Ros. Jon even paid to ... talk to her. But he says that Robb was always better with the women. Which led me to think he'd probably been with them. But once Lenora came to Winterfell ... it's only been her.
She's definitely onto Bolton. The one thing that King's Landing gave her that Winterfell did not give to Robb is that she's spent her life around cool, calculating men (Tywin, Petyr, to extent Renly) she's seen them and knows how the operate. And she recognizes that in Bolton, she might not know what he's got planned, but she knows he's planning.

Guest: Yes good? Okay, Yes good.

darkwolf76: Theon is a man whore and an asshole. And because of that I love writing his point of view. Because Robb is such a gentle man, he would never talk or think that way. So it was lot of fun to go into Theon's head. Especially since there are brief moments where you can tell he regrets it. At one point in the chapter he called Robb his King, present tense because as much as he wants to prove himself to his father and earn his love and respect, there is a part of Theon that cannot let go of all the years he spent with Robb. And that part is going to come into play sooner or later.
Oh the impending doom! It's alright to feel it. I've been leaving hints in some of the chapters about what might happen. And this is a GoT story which means if you like someone they probably die. As to whether this is one of those stories that kill Robb ... you'll have to wait and see. The Red Wedding chapter is getting closer and closer.

HoplessRomantic44: Oh don't worry! Ultimately this story is a love story, because I like love stories. At this point you guys just don't know who is in love at the end.

Raging Raven: She is. I think the last chapter and this one and one a couple chapters away are combining into a turning point for Lenora. She's always been tough, but she's going to start taking control of her life now.

Melmela: Hello Pamela! When I first read your review I was half asleep and still in bed. And I saw that you introduced yourself and I stopped reading the review for a second because I was sure you were about to tell me you didn't like it. In my experience on this site, when people introduce themselves they're about to tear you a new asshole. So I was really happy when you didn't do that.
I'm glad you're enjoying the story. And it really makes me happy to hear that you think Lenora is one of the better OCs in this category. It's hard to create an OC in a fandom that people love the cannon characters so much and have them be accepted. So it's awesome that you guys love Lenora as much as you do.

That's all I've got guys. Time to clean out my fridge, clean my house, and make some guacamole. I'm forcing friends to come over and watch the Cavs game tonight.
Meet here tomorrow? Maybe.
Chloe Jane.