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Chapter Forty-Three: Mothers

Sansa

It was a beautiful day. Warm and sunny, with only a hint of autumn's chill on the breeze. Since Joffrey had set her aside and chosen Margaery as his betrothed she had lost some of her handmaidens. Not that she minded, she suspected that many of them were the queen's informants. She had kept Shae though, and for that she was grateful. The foreign handmaiden had proved herself loyal during the Battle of the Blackwater.

She had not, however, lost her guard. Her red cloaked shadow followed her everywhere. It seemed that even with Stannis beaten and her brother far in the North, Cersei and Joffrey were still worried that Sansa would somehow escape King's Landing. She giggled when she thought of it, if they only knew what she planned at night in the Godswood with Ser Dontos.

When she did leave they would not know it until it was too late.

Today she had dragged Shae and her guard down to the docks, to look out at the ships in the bay. Shae was less than enthusiastic about the trip, but the girl obliged her anyway. Sansa started a game, they were to point out a ship and make up a story about where it was from and where it was going.

She studied one for a while, smiling at its bright orange sails. "Dorne," she finally decided with a nod. "It's going to Dorne." She turned and glanced over her shoulder at Shae to see if the older woman agreed with her.

The dark haired girl raised her eyebrows, "Why Dorne?" she asked, though her voice betrayed her complete lack of interest. She asked not because she wanted an answer but because she knew that Sansa wanted to give one.

And Sansa loved her for it.

"It's carrying silks," she told her. "And it's supposed to bring back wine in exchange." She turned to look behind her again, this time looking past Shae to the guard who stood a respectful distance away, but refused to take his eyes off her. As if she might run away any second. "But it's not coming back," she told Shae, her eyes narrowed slightly as she turned back to the water. "The captain is sick of risking his life so that King's Landing lords and ladies can get drunk on better wine than they deserve."

"What will he do instead?" Shae asked her with a smirk.

"He's going to stay in Dorne," Sansa told her with a decided nod. "Wait out the winter where it's beautiful and warm." She smiled at the thought, she would love to go to Dorne. She had heard so much about it and she was sure that it was more beautiful, warmer, and less dangerous than King's Landing. But then the smile fell from her lips, there had been a time when she thought that King's Landing was beautiful and warm. And she had clearly been wrong. What if she was wrong about Dorne as well?

As if echoing her fears Shae spoke up, "I've met some people in Dorne who weren't so beautiful and warm."

Even though her dream of Drone had already been ruined before Shae spoke Sansa turned to her, her features settling into a glare, "Don't ruin the game," she ordered.

"I told you I don't want to play," Shae argued back as Sansa turned back to the ships.

Sansa ignored her. The point of having a handmaiden was to have someone to play with when she had no one else. To have someone to entertain her when she was bored. She was bored now and she was determined that if she could not yet leave King's Landing she would spend the afternoon dreaming about those that were able to.

"What about that one?" she asked, pointing to a large one with billowing whit sails.

"That one?" Shae asked with a sigh. "It's going to Volantis."

"Why Volantis?" Sansa asked, curious.

"Because when I got on a ship in Volantis it looked like that one," Shae told her, her voice flat.

Sansa sighed and turned to look at the woman, cross with her. "That's not how the game works," she said sternly. "You're not supposed to just blurt out the right answer. You've got to invent a story about where the ship is going and why."

"Why should I invent a story when I know the truth?" Shae asked.

"Because," Sansa sighed. "The truth is always either terrible or boring."

She was so caught up in explaining the rules of the game to her that she did not hear him approaching. As a Lord of the Small Council her guard had of course let him pass with no argument so he had been able to approach them freely. "Lovely day for it!" he called out by way of greeting.

Sansa and Shae both turned to see Lord Petyr Baelish walking toward them, a lovely looking redheaded woman walking slightly behind him. "Watching the ships," he added when neither Sansa or her handmaiden greeted him right away.

Shae watched him, her eyes narrowed with distrust, but Sansa inclined her head in greeting, "Lord Baelish."

When he spoke next he addressed Shae only, "Might I speak with Lady Sansa alone for a moment?" he asked.

Shae did not move, she turned to look at Sansa, one eyebrow raised. Sansa was not sure if she trusted Petyr Baelish, but he had been close with her mother once. And what was he going to do with her red cloaked, Lannister shadow so close by. She silently nodded to Shae, telling her without words that she would be alright on her own with the man. Shae huffed out a noise of disapproval, but she quietly did as Sansa wanted and stood from the bench.

She walked slowly back to the red haired woman who had accompanied Lord Baelish onto the dock. Sansa waited until Shae stopped walking before she turned to Lord Baelish, one of her eyebrows raised, silently waiting for him to tell her why he wished to speak with her.

Lord Baelish held out his hand for hers and after a moment's pause of debate she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her from the bench and walk her to the end of the dock. "I saw your mother not long ago," he told her quietly.

Sansa's head turned sharply toward him in surprise. He had seen her mother? Why hadn't he told her that the day Joffrey set her aside? "She's very eager to see you," he told her. He paused for a moment, waiting for a reaction. Sansa's jaw clenched she was determined not to react, her mother was a traitor after all. "And your sister," he continued.

"Arya's alive?" she asked, unable to hold that question in. She had been so sure for months that her sister was dead. He smiled slyly at her and looked out toward the sea. Sansa waited a moment before she turned her head to the sea as well, "You said you'd take me home," she reminded him.

"You said that King's Landing was your home," he reminded her, his voice sarcastic. "You're the property of the crown, stealing you would be treason. If you were to tell just one person -"

"I won't," Sansa cut in, hoping to assure him. In public, around the court she would swear all day that King's Landing was her home. But here, alone. She could tell the truth. She so desperately wanted to go home. "I won't tell anyone," she told him again.

"How do I know?" he asked her.

"Because I'm a terrible liar," she fired back at him. "You've said so yourself." He smiled and inclined his head to her. He knew she spoke the truth. "Please Lord Baelish," she begged him, turning to look at him, silently willing him to look her in the eyes and see just how desperate she was. "Tell me what to do. Tell me when."

His smile grew a bit more, he seemed to enjoy hearing her beg for his help. "I'm waiting for word on an assignment that will take me far away from the capitol," he told her. "When I set sail I might be able to take you with me. But you will need to be ready on a moment's notice."

Sansa nodded, she could do that. There was nothing in King's Landing that she would wish to take with her when she left. She would not need to pack a thing. She would not need to tell a soul. She had no one she would need to say goodbye to. "I can do that," she told him with a nod.

He looked at her, and his hand lifted for a moment, as if he meant to touch her. Without meaning to Sansa countered his movement with a step backwards, away from him. He watched her, "You grow to look more like your mother every day," he told her, his hand falling to his side. "It would be my honor to return you to her."

...

The invitation had frightened her. Why would Lady Margaery Tyrell wish to have tea with her? Margaery was to be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa was a traitor's daughter, set aside so that Joffrey could marry her. Sansa was sure there was no way Margaery could be jealous. Joffrey had barely looked at her since he had set her aside. She would not be competition for the beautiful older girl from Highgarden.

But if she was not jealous Sansa could not think of another reason why Margaery would want to meet with her. Surely she did not want them to be friends? She took special care when she dressed that morning. Her fingers trembled as she did the clasps on her dress. She knew that Margaery tended to wear pale blue-green dresses and her hair would be done up in a style typical of Highgarden ladies. So Sansa opted for a pale purple shift with a muted green dress over it. The dress brought out the red in her hair, but would not make her stand out against lovely pale blue of the queen-to-be's wardrobe.

She was still nervous that afternoon when Loras came to collect her. She did not say much to him as he walked her through the castle. And he did not say much to her until they reached the gardens. Then he spoke, though she was sure it was his knightly courtesy that swayed him to do so instead of any real desire to speak to her. "I believe you grow more beautiful every day, Lady Sansa," he told her as they moved slowly through the garden.

"You are too kind, Ser Loras," she told him, smiling at him. She wanted to tell him that he looked handsome. His shirt was made of green silk and he had a yellow doublet over top that feel to his knees. Highgarden colors. They brought out the blue of his eyes and the gold highlights in his light blonde hair. Sansa would not be so bold to call herself a beauty, but Ser Loras was. She was too shy to tell him that, but she wished to keep speaking to him. For a moment she fought over what to say before she finally settled on, "You probably don't remember the first time we met."

It was a lie, she was sure that he did. She only used it as an opening to the conversation so that he could tell her what he thought of her that day. But when she turned to look at him he was looking at her with raised eyebrows. "At the Hand's Tourney," she pressed, hoping he would remember. "You gave me your favor?" She was silently begging him to remember, hoping that the moment had not been magical only to her. She wanted him to tell her that he had thought her the most beautiful woman at the tournament.

He lowered his eyebrows, he remembered now. Yes, she thought, triumphant. He nodded, "My favor?" he asked her. "I thought I had crowned you at the end. A crown of blue roses."

Sansa shook her head, her heart falling a bit. Not only did he not remember her, but she was not the only woman who had gotten his attention at a tournament, "No," she told him, though she supposed it would have been politer for her to agree. "You gave me a rose, a red rose."

"To go with your hair, no doubt," Loras told her with a nod as they approached Margaery.

The older girl was talking to one of her cousins, but she dismissed her when she saw them approaching. "You're such a dear," she addressed Loras, "for bringing Lady Sansa to me."

Loras smiled at his sister and nodded as he withdrew his arm from Sansa's grasp, "I'll leave you to it," he told them with a bow to each of them before he turned to walk back the way they had come.

Sansa stayed where she was, staring at Margaery with pure wonder. She did not understand how Loras could call her beautiful when he had his own sister to compare her to. She was sure that there was no one more beautiful than the Lady Margaery in all of King's Landing.

"Come," Margaery told her with a friendly smile, she wrapped her arm around Sansa's waist and gently guided her further in the garden where it seemed the ladies of Highgarden had set up court. She was much more friendly than Sansa would have imagined. The women parted for them and it did not take them long to reach the edge of the garden where the matriarch of House Tyrell sat just outside of a terrace overlooking the bay.

Margaery took it upon herself to introduce Sansa to her grandmother, the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell. "Kiss me child," the Queen of Thorns commanded, an indulging smile on her face as she held out her hand to Sansa. Sansa quickly did as requested and smiled as she stood back up. "Good of you to visit me and my foolish flock of hens." She paused for a moment, studying Sansa. The smile slipped from her lips. "I'm very sorry to hear of your losses," she told her. "I knew your grandfather Rickard, and it is said that your grandfather Tully is dying," she paused again, shaking her head. "And of course your father. Night falls for all of us in the end, and too soon for some. You know that more than most, poor child."

Sansa did not know what to say. She was sure that this kind old lady was not trying to trap her. But Margaery was Joffrey's new betrothed. What if she told him that Sansa had accepted sympathy for the death of her father. Her father who was a traitor. They expected some sort of answer, she thought for a moment before she decided on one. If the Lady Olenna was going to bring up Sansa's ties to traitors she would bring up their own. To quietly remind them that she was not the only one tied to a pretend King.

She glanced between Lady Olenna and Margaery, "I was saddened when I heard of Lord Renly's death, Your Grace," she told Margaery. "He was very gallant."

"You as kind to say so," Margaery told her with a gentle smile.

Lady Olenna snorted, "Gallant yes," she said. "And charming and very clean. He knew how to dress and he knew how to smile, and he knew how to bathe. And somehow he got the notion that this made him fit to be King. The Baratheons have always had some queer notions, to be sure. It comes from their Targaryen blood, I should think."

"Renly was brave and gentle, Grandmother," Margaery reminded the older woman with a adoring smile on her face. "Father liked him, and so did Loras."

"Loras is young," Lady Olenna told her granddaughter quickly. "And very good at knocking men off horses with a stick. That does not make him wise. As to your fathead father," she rolled her eyes.

"Grandmother," Margaery scolded, giggling as she smiled at Sansa, "What will Lady Sansa think of us?"

"She might think some of us have our wits about us," Lady Olenna told her. "One of us at any rate." Sansa smiled at her, she did think they had some wits about them and she appreciated their kindness. Lady Olenna turned to Sansa, "Shall we have some lemon cakes?" she asked her.

"Lemon cakes are my favorite," Sansa told her with a smile.

Lady Olenna nodded, "So we've been told."

-.-.-.-.-

Jaime

They were a long way away from King's Landing yet. But every day as they walked Jaime felt stronger and more like himself. He was closer to his family now. And once he was returned to them he would be able to find some way to rescue Lenora, whether she wanted to be or not. And to bring her home. He did not give a damn about the end of the war. He did not give a damn about the rest of the country. He just wanted his family where it belonged. In King's Landing.

He saw a chance after they had been walking for three days. They were one one side of the Trident and they needed to be on the other. There was a bridge that they could use to cross or they could try to ford the river on their own. Brienne seemed quite torn with the indecision of it all.

"It's a tough decision," Jamie mused quietly, teasing her as they stood, hidden by trees, staring at the bridge. "Take the bridge and risk being seen or cross the great water."

"Silence, Kingslayer," she hissed at him.

"Anyone could see us on the bridge," he continued as if she had not spoken. "But cross by water and the current could take us or I could escape down the river."

"Good luck," she sneered at him.

He turned to look at her, his eyes scanning over her face. He knew he made her uncomfortable when he looked at her. He wanted her as uncomfortable as possible. "It's wonderful to watch you wrestle with these dilemmas," he told her with a grin as he turned back toward the water. "Which will the wench choose?"

She chose the bridge, much to his delight, shoving him in front of her as she marched her way onto the bridge. He walked slowly, allowing the rope she had tied to his wrist cuffs to fall slack. She was not uncomfortable enough. She was not irritated enough. He would have to try harder.

"Gambler at heart," he mused as they walked. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"Shut up," Brienne hissed, "and be quick about it."

He would not be quick about it. Instead, about half way across the bridge he threw himself down on the ground. "Oh," he groaned as he stretched out his legs. "I need to rest."

"Get up," Brienne ordered him, giving a tug on the rope she held tight in her hands.

He would not.

"You should get off your feet," he told her as she looked around wildly, hoping that no one would see them. "You walk everywhere."

"Get up now!" she practically yelled at him.

"Corns!" he yelled back at her, being as loud as possible. He wanted her nervous. "I never used to get corns," he continued in a quieter voice. "Though I used to ride everywhere. But you make me march around like a common foot soldier wearing the same shit boots I've had all year." She had had enough of his rambling, she didn't think as she moved closer to him, grabbing his right arm with both of her hands and heaving, pulling him to his feet. "This heel's ruined," he continued, distracting her with his voice while his hands reached for the pommel of her sword. "There's no -"

He stopped speaking once his hands had wrapped around the handle of her sword. He stopped fighting her then and allowed her to fully pull him to his feet. Then with her grip light on the rope he took two quick steps away from her, pulling the sword from its sheath as he did, grinning at the noise the steel made.

He growled as he swung the sword against the rope, cutting himself free for the girl who wished she was a knight. He turned to face her, his hands still chained together, both of them holding the sword.

"Give me the sword, Kingslayer," she ordered.

"Oh I will," Jaime assured her as he swung the sword from left to right, testing its weight. He chuckled when she drew her second sword. He flipped the sword in the air, catching it with just his right hand, his sword hand. "I've never understood why some knights felt the need to carry two swords," he mused. "I always told Len that if she lost her sword in a fight then she did not deserve to have it."

He grinned at Brienne, not moving to strike just yet. He walked around her slowly, turning his back on her. He knew she would follow. She had to. She had sworn herself to Lady Catelyn after all.

She was wearing armor, he heard her move. He turned at just the right moment and swung his sword to the right, grinning when she stepped out of the way. "Ooh," he taunted her.

He watched her, moving slowly as he approached her. She countered every one of his steps with one of her own. "You move well," he complimented her. He wanted her to attack him though, so a moment later he taunted her, "For a great beast of a woman."

She grimaced at him, stepping forward and finally bringing her sword to meet his. He chuckled as he countered her strike. "You shouldn't grimace before you lunge," he told her. "It gives away the game."

She looked angry, though he was not sure why. There were many people in the Seven Kingdoms that would have paid their weight in gold to get a private fighting lesson from Jaime Lannister.

He drove at her, the sword felt alive in his hands. She jumped back, parrying, but he followed close after her, pressing the attack. No sooner did she turn one cut than the next was upon her.

The swords kissed and then fell apart, only to kiss again a moment later. The steel clanged as the swords struck each other and Jaime was sure that he had never heard a more beautiful noise. His blood was singing to the tune of the clashing steel. This was what he was made for. The only time he truly felt alive was when he had a sword in his hand. And it had been so long since he had had a fight.

With both of his hands chained together, Brienne of Tarth might even give him a good fight. Still, they did not call him the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms for nothing. Even with his awkward grip on the sword, he was sure he would come out victorious.

He paused for a moment, his sword extended toward her, "Bit of a quandary for you, isn't it?" he asked her. "If you kill me you've failed Lady Stark. But if you don't," he paused, grinning at her, "I'm going to kill you."

Then he was on her again. High, low, overhand, he rained down steel upon her. Left, right backslash, swinging so hard that sparks flew when the swords came together. Upswing, sideslash, overhand, always attacking, moving into her, step and slide strike, and step, step and strike. Hacking, slashing, faster, faster, faster.

"Not half bad," he told her as he swung his sword at her face. "For a wench."

She blocked his sword, but did not attack, she was on the defense. "I would not hurt you, Kingslayer," she told him.

Jaime scoffed, "As if you could." She was watching him wearily. He smiled at her, Lenora had once told him that his smile could be quite disarming, he hoped it would disarm the giant wench. "Come on," he goaded her, "come on, my sweetling, the music's still playing. Might I have this dance, my Lady?"

And the dance went on. He pinned her against the side of the bridge and cursed as she slipped away. He followed her, blade whirling. He was not as good as he once was, his skills with a blade had gone to rust as well as his courtesies in Riverrun's dungeons. But he was still better than Brienne of Tarth.

But then, with what looked like a seemingly easy swing she loosened his grip on the sword, and when he looked down to fix it her leg stretched out, tripping him and sending him to the ground at her feet. He expected her to grab him and pull him back to his feet, but when he looked up he saw that she had her sword extended over him, still in a defensive position.

That's when he heard them, the horses coming across the bridge. He tilted his head, and saw at least three men on horseback, looking down at them. They were smiling, one of them was even clapping his hands.

"Well met, friends!" he called out to them as amiably as he could as he stood up. He growled low in his throat when Brienne pushed him slightly behind her as if he needed her protection. "My pardons," he called over her shoulder. "If I disturbed you. You caught me chastising my wife."

"Seemed to me that she was doing the chastising," the one in the middle called back. "Did your woman get the better of you?" He paused. "If you could call that a woman."

Jaime stepped in front of her, "Well we enjoy a good fight," he assured them. "Gets our juices flowing." He looked over their shoulders at their banners, "Flayed man of House Bolton," he told them. "A bit gruesome for my taste."

The man looked down at him, "I can't imagine much is too gruesome for you, Kingslayer."

Jaime sighed, he had hoped they would not recognize him, dirty as he was. "Let us go and my father will give you whatever you like," he promised them.

"Enough to buy me a new head?" the leader asked him. "If the King in the North hears that I had the Kingslayer and I let him go, he'll be taking it right off. I'd rather he'd take yours."

-.-.-.-.-

Robb

He felt sorry for his mother. His bannermen kept apologizing to him, as if he had lost something that day. But he hardly knew his grandfather, had not seen him since he was a young child and since returning to Riverrun had said no more than a few words to the old man. A few words that the man had not understood and would never remember.

His bannermen should have been apologizing to his mother, but she was still not allowed to leave her chambers and he had limited the guests she was allowed to receive. It was a fine line between allowing his mother comfort during her time of need and proving to some of his more vocal bannermen that he would not go easy on her after she had released the Kingslayer.

He had not been to see her yet. He had not brought her to the sept where his uncle Edmure was standing vigil for the required three days before his grandfather's funeral. But Lenora went to see his mother every day. And every night she lectured him about how he should see her too.

He was afraid to see her, in truth, not that he would tell Lenora that. He understood why his mother had set the Kingslayer free. He understood that she was overcome with grief at the news of the boys and that she was hoping, foolishly, that setting Jaime Lannister free would buy her girls back.

But she had lost the boys. And the girls were lost too, he knew that even if she did not. Jaime Lannister would never send the girls back. And now her father was gone.

He walked into their chambers to find Lenora sitting on the floor in front of the looking glass. Her black mourning skirts flared out around her as she braided her dark hair down her back in a long, thick braid. She looked up at him, catching his eye in the mirror, "You'll let her come to the funeral?" she asked him, speaking of his mother.

Robb nodded, watching her as she lowered her eyes back to her own reflection and continued to braid her hair. Looking around the room he was overcome with the realization that one of the last times they had been in this room was when she had told him about the baby. "You didn't wear black," he told her quietly, trying to keep the accusation out of his voice.

She looked up at him again through the mirror, it was as if she could read his mind. "You shouldn't talk of that," she told him, shaking her head as she tied her braid. "Not today on the morning of your grandfather's funeral."

Robb shook his head. She stood up and attempted to walk past him, but he stepped to the side, blocking her path. "You hardly gave yourself time to mourn. You didn't wear black." He paused and when it looked as though she was going to try to walk around him again he reached out, wrapping his hands around her upper arms. "Were you not happy to be carrying my child?" he asked her. "Was its death a blessing from the Gods to you?"

"You're hurting me, Robb," Lenora bit out through clenched teeth. She was looking down, she refused to meet his eyes.

Robb did not let go of her arms, if anything he squeezed a little tighter, "You have hurt me," he told her, his voice cracking. "You told me you would rather pretend that it had never happened. Do you know who you sound like when you talk like that? Do you know who you remind me of?" Lenora shook her head, she still refused to look at him. "You sound like your mother," he fired at her, knowing that would hurt her more than anything else he could say.

When she finally looked up at him there were tears swimming in her stormy grey eyes. "And how was I supposed to mourn Robb?" she asked him, trying to move away from him and sighing when he still refused to let go of her. "Was I supposed to cry for days? Was I supposed to wear black for weeks? What would your men have thought? They would have begun to wonder."

"We could have told them," Robb told her, his heart breaking when she shook her head.

"And admitted that you made a mistake when you picked your Queen?" she asked him. "Half of them still looked at me as a Lannister back then. To find out that I was a Lannister who couldn't even give you a child -" she cut herself off and shook her head. "I failed you, Robb. And in doing so I made this war so much easier for my mother. Half the Freys left because Lord Walder is losing faith. Do you think they would have stayed if I had been able to give the North an heir?"

"You'll give me one," Robb promised her, his grip loosening on her arms when it became apparent that she was no longer going to run away from him. "You'll give me more than one, you'll see."

"Not soon enough," Lenora told him, reaching up to wipe at her tears.

Robb shook his head, "You could wait five years to give me an heir and I still wouldn't mind," he swore to her.

"Your bannermen would urge you to set me aside," Lenora told him, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips. She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face. He wondered what she saw there, "But you've been hurting too," she whispered softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek as if to soothe him. He shook his head, silently trying to deny it. He had been hurting, but he didn't not want her to feel as though she needed to carry his pain as well as her own.

She shook her head too and sighed. "I had dreams," she told him quietly. "When I first found out that I was carrying your child I had dreams. I would close my eyes and I could see a little boy practicing sword play in a tilt yard."

"You'd teach him," Robb told her, a smile resting on his lips.

"Of course I would," Lenora agreed.

"And if it was a girl?" Robb asked.

"Then you could have taught her," Lenora joked.

Robb shook his head, "You would have taught her too," he told her. "You wouldn't have wanted your daughter to grow up in a world where a man had to protect her. You would have raised a warrior, just as Jaime raised you."

Lenora nodded. "What did you hope it would be?" she asked him. "A boy or a girl?"

Robb shrugged his shoulders, "I suppose I should say that I wanted a boy," he told her. "But even now, when I close my eyes all I can see is a little girl who looks just like you."

"Pity," Lenora told him more tears slipping out of her eyes, "I wanted auburn curls and blue eyes."

She looked like she was going to say something else, but the door to their chambers opened and the maester walked in. "Your Grace?" He called out, addressing Robb. Lenora quickly turned from the door, violently wiping at her eyes as if she could somehow hide her tears from the old man. "By your leave, Lord Edmure would like to start the funeral proceedings."

Robb watched Lenora, her back was still turned to him, but he could see what she was doing. Her shoulders were stiff, her back straight, her neck long. She was putting her armor back on. For a moment she had taken it off and let him comfort her, but she was putting it back on now.

He nodded, "Yes," he told the maester, waiting for Lenora to turn around so that she could take his arm. "We should start."

It was cold on the river with the wind. Lenora and Lady Catelyn stood close together, wrapped in their cloaks as Robb and the Blackfish stepped into the water to gently push Lord Hoster's boat into the current. He was covered in a cloak with House colors and sigil. On his stomach rested a long sword and his shield.

The Blackfish stood beside Catelyn and Robb walked around his mother, he had intended to stand on Lenora's other side, but his sweet little wife took two silent steps back, leaving him room to stand between her and his mother as his uncle Edmure stepped forward, bow in hand to shoot a fiery arrow at his father's boat and turn it into a funeral pyre.

His grip on the bow was good, his stance perfect, but the wind was not quite right. His first arrow flew to the left of the boat, missing it completely.

With a sheepish look back at Catelyn Edmure took a second arrow and shot again.

This one landed behind the boat.

The Blackfish sighed in disappointment and Robb chuckled almost bitterly, shaking his head. Lenora hissed out a warning to him to be quiet. Only Catelyn stayed silent.

The third arrow would miss too. They were running out of time. Lord Hoster's boat was already well down the river. Before the third arrow even landed and fizzled out in the water the Blackfish moved forward. Without a word he took the bow out of Edmure's grasp and shoved the new Lord of Riverrun back as if he were a small boy.

He lit the arrow and turned, watching the Riverrun banner in the wind before he loosed it. He did not look to see if it hit his target, he did not watch his brother's body go up in flames. He threw the bow back at Edmure and walked, his back turned to the river, off the dock.

Lenora shifted beside him and Robb turned to look at her. She was looking between Edmure and the Blackfish. No doubt wondering if they were to stay on the dock with Edmure or follow the Blackfish back to the castle.

Robb nodded after the Blackfish and she nodded as well, but not before shooting a pointed look at his mother. She didn't have to say anything, Robb knew what she meant. He sighed, but did as she wished, staying on the dock with his mother as she watched the boat round the bend. Everyone else had left for the castle by then save the two of them. She sighed once she could no longer see the boat, "I never thought he would die," she whispered to her son, finally looking at him.

Robb nodded, he understood what she meant. He had not believed it when he had heard the news that his father had died either. He was too strong to die, he too much more to do with his life. He was sure that his mother felt the same way about her father. "I'm sorry, Mother," he told her. He paused for a moment, unsure if he was only apologizing for the death of his grandfather. "For all of it," he added.

Catelyn looked at him for a moment, her lips trembling as if she were going to cry, "And me," she told him. "As well."

Author's Note:

Hello friends, just your friendly neighborhood fanfiction writer. Back at it again.
Thank you for stopping by and reading this chapter. I hope that you enjoyed it
You can show your appreciation and enjoyment by writing a review in that empty, lonely little box down there.
Go on ... make friends.
To those wonderful friends who reviewed the last chapter. You are perfect. THANK YOU!

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

Boomer1125: Sansa and Jon together? Intriguing. To tell you the truth I'm not a huge fan of that. I honestly love Sansa and Tyrion and I think could have done well together. But that's just my opinion. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!

RHatch89: Thank you!

darkwolf76: Yay! You're back. It's sad that you missed a chapter, but isn't it kind of fun to come back and realize that there's more than one chapter to read? It's like a bonus!
I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. I loved writing as Margaery. I'm not going to write he point of view often, perhaps once or twice more. But it's tempting because she was a lot of fun. She's nice, but a bit manipulative and it's fun to write. Robb and Margaery would be an interesting pair. They would have won the war if that had happened. but I think at the moment Robb's got his hands full with Lenora.
Yeah the last chapter was rough for Robb and Tyrion. And I'm sad to say that things aren't going to get much better for Robb in the next few chapters either. But I'm glad that you are enjoying the "emotional depth" I manage for my characters. It's a fine line between letting you guys into their minds and making it read like one of my journal entries from when I was in high school so it's good to know I'm walking that tightrope well.
As for your questions. I'm keeping people guessing. Lenora might end up with Jon. She might end up with Robb. Robb might die. Lenora might end up with no one. Lenora might die... just kidding on that last one. That definitely won't happen. But there's a thousand possibilities for how this story will end. And only I know the truth. So I'm trying to answer people's questions without straight up telling them how the story will end because then why would they read it.
And because I like teasing people...

writingNOOB: Oh friend, don't worry. Whatever happens, I promise it will be enjoyable. I do not pretend that I am GRRM, I will not bring you on this long, shaping up to be eighty chapter story just to break your heart.
Though it's nice to hear that I've ensnared you guys in a trap. That's fun.

thatnellegirl27: Thank you dear! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one as well. Robb is one of my favorite dead characters too (him and Ned ... I'm a sucker for Starks). And that's why I love GRRM ... you're right, in any other author's hands Robb would be king. He's kind and he's good and he's just and he's honorable (and he's handsome ...) and GRRM took that cliche, shot a couple arrows at it, and stabbed it in the chest. And it broke my heart. But hooked me all the same.

DannyBlack70: Everybody really liked the Margaery point of view. That's amazing. I was worried that people would not appreciate my Margaery the manipulator take on her. But that's how I've always seen her in the books, in the show. I loved in the last season when she's tricking the High Sparrow and she tells him that she used to do good deeds just to be noticed doing good deeds. That could have been played as she was telling him what he wanted to hear. But I took it and ran with it in the last chapter. And I'm glad it worked.
As for the Red Wedding. Don't worry, you guys are going to love it (or at least perhaps the aftermath of it).
I promise.

Guest1995: Lenora would totally love Margaery and Olenna. They're all witty and sarcastic and a bit manipulative, but I truly believe that they all have good hearts. And together they could probably rule the seven kingdoms.
To answer your question: yes. Lenora will see Tyrion again ... in about twenty(ish) chapters. The family's getting back together!
The Red Wedding will turn out differently: We've still got forty chapters to go so at least we know the Freys won't kill Robb's wife. :)

sltsky96: I'm glad you enjoyed Robb and Lenora training! In the outline for that section it legitimately said Robb and Lenora fluff bs (because it's been too long since these two laughed together) and out of that note to myself came that scene. But I think it was a good one, it showed that despite everything, the two of them are able to pull each other out of the darkness. It's an important thing.

janaoliver: You are too sweet! Thank you! And here I was happy with my 186 reviews. I figured that was doing pretty good. I'm averaging like four reviews a chapter (4.43 to be exact). But if you think it deserves more then I'm not going to argue with you.
Thank you, I'm glad that this is one of the best Robb/OC fics you've read and I hope that it continues to be.

Alright, that's it my darlings. It's a bit late so I'm going to go to bed now.
But I will see you back here tomorrow, perhaps?
In the mean time if you really need a fix and you haven't read it already, you can hop on over to my Jaime/OC story ... there's only four chapters so far, but I hear they're pretty good.
Chloe Jane.