Chapter 30
Nysa turned towards Robb and smiled widely. She looked healthy - rounder and brighter. Her eyes sparkled when their gazes locked and she nodded her head slightly at him.
"There she is," Lord Frey turned in his seat, "our Queen. She is a pretty face - at least prettier than the lot I have. And shapely," he added the last part as both Nysa and Robb's smiles disappeared. "Even before she grew heavier with child. I can't blame you, my King," he smiled and licked his lips, looking at Nysa's direction. "When I was your age, I'd given anything for a pair of firm tits and a tight fit."
Robb moved to take Nysa safely into his arms but Catelyn had grabbed him quickly.
"My Lord, you are a flatterer," Nysa replied as they turned towards her in shock. "I am so round with child. To hear of you speak of me being shapely," she waved her hand at him. "Lord Frey is quite the avid conversationalist, my King. Always bestowing little compliments my way. I daresay it's no wonder why he's been wed so often. Many a women would be so fortunate to have a husband praise them as he does," she smiled.
Lord Walder Frey burst out in laughter. "Now who is the flatterer?"
"Forgive me for being late to receive you, my King," Nysa turned back towards Robb. "I had just left the rooms of Lady Roslin, Lady Arwyn and Lady Marissa," she nodded towards Edmure, Patrek and Jory. "They are very eager to meet you all."
"Eager," Lord Frey cackled. "I like an eager woman, waiting for me. Speaking of eager brides, where is..."
He pointed towards the crowd. Nysa stepped forward and spotted the Lady in the back. Jeyne nodded and began to walk forward. Nysa noticed that Jeyne's father was present along with a few others from House Westerling. Nysa stopped Jeyne from stepping further towards the middle of the room. "If you do not wish to accept..."
"I already have," Jeyne interrupted. "Nothing can undo it."
"I can," Nysa reminded her. "Lord Frey's grandson is promised Harrenhal whomever he will wed," she said is a soft tone. "Therefore, you do not need to do this."
"I think we both know that I must," Jeyne replied with a small curtsy.
Nysa nodded and turned around to reveal Jeyne standing next to her. "My Lord Frey, may I present to you Lady Jeyne Westerling, the future Lady of Harrenhal."
"Harrenhal," one of the men behind them spoke up.
Nysa's head snapped around to see a man shake his head angrily.
"She's not taking that castle, that rubbish..."
"And you are," Nysa questioned.
"Ser Rolph Spicer, my Queen."
"Ser Spice?"
"Spicer," he repeated.
Nysa's lips twitched into a smile before she burst into a fit of giggles. Lady Shirei, along with a few others began to giggle and laugh as well. "Forgive me, Ser. But you're name is one letter away from being a spider," she said as a few of the Frey men chuckled also. "I don't really like spiders. I smash them whenever they creep too close to me," she added with a serious expression and a lifted eyebrow.
That was when all laughter stopped. She glanced around her before eyeing the older knight up and down.
"Lady of Harrenhal is nothing to be ashamed of. I learned from the young men here that there is a wonderful history of that castle. And," she turned dismissively away from the knight and took Jeyne's arm, linking it with hers, "it can continue to be made wonderful once again - with the right touch from its Lady. What do you think of the bride, Lord Frey," Nysa glanced at the end of the hall.
Lord Walder held a crooked smile and Jeyne tried not to shrink back as his eyes wander over her. "Its a pity, a great pity indeed that we don't practice the Lord's right to the first night," he replied while licking his lips. "I envy my grandson that he'll have such a pretty wife."
Nysa gripped onto Jeyne's arm. "Hold your head high," she whispered. "Don't let his words affect you," she added. "You'll be Lady of Harrenhal. You'll command your own army of Frey men."
Jeyne did exactly as told and smiled before dipping into a curtsy.
"I fear it is women like Lady Jeyne and I to envy Lady Joyeuse, my Lord," Nysa complimented as he waved them off. "Speaking of which, I will be taking Lady Jeyne with me now," she glanced over her shoulder again, "if you don't mind Lord Westerling and Ser Spider," she added as a few chuckles filled the hall. "We have much to discuss - us womenfolk," she smiled.
"Of course, of course," Lord Frey gestured for them to leave.
"You will be entertaining the men, won't you, Lord Frey," she paused just before they exited.
"Yes, yes," he nodded.
"Excellent," she beamed. "I knew I could count on you Lord Frey," she smiled. "I'll see the rest of you at the wedding."
Lady Catelyn caught Nysa's gaze then and nodded towards the young woman in approval. She wasn't sure how she had done it, but Nysa did survive in the Twins. She was standing there, commanding attention and demanding respect - demanding respect for his daughters and the other women at the Twins. A surge of pride shot through Lady Catelyn then. They had succeeded in raising a wonderful young woman. Oh, if only Ned could be here to see - the little infant they found was truly a Queen.
Jon shook his head and turned away. He had just gotten them back and now Bran wanted to leave. What for, he had asked. To see a raven, was the answer. Meera had told Jon about this so-called raven and how it called to Bran, but he didn't think anything on it. He didn't want Bran to leave Winterfell - leave him.
There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.
"I can't let you go," Jon replied, not bothering to turn around. "It's dangerous out there for you. I don't care if you'll have Hodor or Jojen Reed with you. I don't even care if you bring half the guards that we have with you," his voice grew louder. "You have to stay here. This is your home. You said the raven speaks to you in your dreams, then why can't you just keep on that way?"
"There's more that I need to see," Bran pressed. "Robb is losing control of the Northmen and the River Lords. He needs to work with Nysa - learn to listen to her. She's been learning so much - from mother, from the other Ladies, the other Lords. If he wishes to be King of Westeros, actions need to be taken."
"Robb doesn't want all of Westeros," Jon turned to face his younger brother this time. "He just wants to get Sansa back, protect the North, protect our family."
Bran shook his head slightly. "As I said, I can sense that there is something else. There is also a bond between you and Nysa - it grows stronger every day. But I can't see why it's there. She needs you here, here in Winterfell, in the North. For what reason, I can't see beyond that. The wildlings that are coming, these White Walkers that we're hearing of - I can learn about them, learn what's happening beyond this war in the South. There's another war coming, Jon. We need to prepare for it."
"And what of Winterfell," Jon glanced around the hall. "It needs you, Bran. You are the Lord of our home, the Stark who..."
"And you are a Stark of Winterfell also, Jon," Bran answered. "You're the one who is here, who saved what little was left of this place, who helped save the North from the Ironborn."
"I am not a Stark."
"Not by name," Bran replied.
Jon shook his head, thinking in the moment on how to respond. And you are a Stark. You may not have my name. But you have my blood. His father had told him that, had bid him farewell before he left for the Wall.
There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.
"I cannot presume to..."
"Jon," Bran said in a serious manner. "The Starks of Winterfell have been known to have a sense of honor and justice in the North. They are descendants from the old Kings of Winter - those who protect the North. They gained the respect of those under their command because of their honesty and strong belief in the gods and laws of Westeros. You are a Stark."
"I understand if you are upset with me my Queen," Jeyne spoke up, causing Nysa to pause and turn sharply towards her. "The King is..."
"My husband," Nysa finished for her.
"He does love you, your Grace," Jeyne quickly noted. "I don't think he would have ever..."
Nysa held up her hand and Jeyne nodded her head in understanding. "We will place that to the side," Nysa gestured for them to continue walking. "I have someone here that I wish for you to meet."
Tyta stood at the end of the hall and opened the door at the end of it.
"If you haven't seen her in the meeting hall, this is Lady Tyta Frey, daughter or Lord Walder Frey. She will be serving on my Queensguard once we leave the Twins but I have asked that she assure your safety until you are escorted down to the Sept for the wedding."
Jeyne looked back at Nysa, shocked and surprised.
"My safety?"
"Your virtue, of course," Nysa added.
"Of course," Jeyne nodded. "None of the other Frey men are going to..."
"Not with me around," Tyta spoke up, "I assure you, my Lady."
Jeyne seemed to bright at the thought. "Is this who we were to meet?"
"No, it is not," Nysa answered. "I spent almost two moons here at the Twins, reassuring Lady Roslin, Lady Awren and Lady Marissa that everything would be okay and that the men they were going to exchange vows with were respectable, honorable men. They would fight and die for their King - or Queen," she smiled and then looked down. "I told Lady Marissa stories of when my brother and I were in Winterfell and how heroic, brave and," she blushed, "and of how kind he could be."
She glanced at Jeyne and smiled.
"I spoke about how beautiful Riverrun is and how delighted they would be to finally have a Lady to bring life there to Lady Roslin. I explained how adventurous Seaguard can be, all the excitement it holds for Lady Arwen once she goes there. Then I realized that I did nothing to reassure you, my Lady, that this would be an advantageous marriage and one that you could also find admiration from your husband."
Jeyne opened her mouth to reply but was overcome with feeling.
"I know that I still harbor some ill-feeling towards you," Nysa stepped forward. "But I want us to look past this, I want something better for not only my marriage but also the women who are under my care. Your House swore its fealty to us and I thank you for it."
Jeyne nodded. "I knew that in order to ensure our father's safety and display loyalty to you that I would need to do this."
"And this doesn't have to be burdensome," Nysa reminded. "You will become Lady of Harrenhal. And though it is not much now, I know that it may become something with a little care from its Lady," she touched Jeyne's arms and gave it a reassuring squeeze before holding up her hand to continue on in.
"I never thought you'd give them Harrenhal or make me a Lady of such a castle," Jeyne began, "especially since, well," Jeyne paused and looked down.
"Did I forget to mention that it is far away from my husband," she added as Jeyne nodded guiltily.
"Of course. Forgive me, my Queen, for everything..."
"Enough of that," Nysa waved her off. "Now may I introduce you to Oswell Frey, the future Lord of Harrenhal?"
Oswell stepped forward slowly and reached for Jeyne's hand, lifting it slowly to his mouth.
"This is Lady Jeyne Westerling of the Crag," Nysa said as Oswell looked up and caught his betrothed's eyes on him.
"I am pleased to finally meet you, my Lady," Oswell replied and Jeyne couldn't help but blush.
He didn't appear dirty and unkept as the other Frey guards she had seen. No, he was dressed in a fine tunic. Jeyne noted the way his chiseled jaw and stubble chin turned into a smile against her hand. He wasn't like the other Freys at all and definitely not what she was expecting.
"And this is his mother, Lady Shylla," Nysa said breaking the young pair from their spell.
Something had passed as they met one another. Nysa was certain of it. Oswell was certain of it. Jeyne was certain of it. Oswell kept her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand as he moved her to stand side by side with him. Jeyne pressed her lips together shyly before glancing towards the woman who would become her mother by law.
"Lady Jeyne, I am so glad that you have arrived," Lady Shylla noted. "We've heard many things about you from the Queen," she smiled and gestured to Nysa.
"I am honored," Jeyne curtsied.
"You are very pretty," Lady Shylla smiled again. "I think I will have beautiful grandchildren."
"Mother," Oswell scolded as Jeyne blushed.
"Perhaps the two of you will like to speak to one another," Nysa gestured to the small table.
Oswell pointed to the chair and Jeyne sat down slowly in it. She looked back at Nysa before smiling at Oswell as he sat opposite her. "So, my Lady, I hear you like tourneys and feasts."
"Aye, I do," Jeyne answered.
They talked much about their childhood, their likes and dislikes, what made the other happy and what they feared the most. He certainly wasn't like the other Frey men she had met. When he said something humorous, she actually found it delightful. An hour or two later, the two were so engrossed in conversation that Jeyne forgot the Queen and Lady Shylla were serving as silent chaperones. Jeyne giggled before she could help it and immediately put up her mouth to quiet herself. Nysa smiled and looked up from the pair as did Lady Shylla. Oswell reached over and took her hand in his, removing it from her mouth.
"Don't," he whispered, "you have a beautiful laugh."
"Thank you," she said, before reaching over and placing her other hand over his. "My Lord," she finished.
"Oswell," he replied.
Jeyne gave a small nod.
"I think that this is a beautiful start," Oswell added.
"So do I," Jeyne nodded, "Oswell."
Oswell reached over to kiss her cheek again but this time his mother stood up and cleared her throat. Both Oswell and Jeyne blushed as they dropped their hands and looked away, shyly. "I believe that you've had more than enough time to speak with your betrothed," Lady Shylla stood slowly. "May I remind you that the other husbands are not so fortunate."
"No, they most certainly are not," Oswell smiled up at Jeyne.
Jeyne blushed something crimson and couldn't help the fluttering feeling spreading through her. He was openly flirting with her and she didn't need to encourage him so much as she had the King. It was as if he was truly enraptured with her. She talked, he listened. She smiled - and none of them were forced as if she had to feign that he was interesting. No. He enjoyed the same things as her. He had a kind heart and a bright outlook - that much she could discern.
She couldn't believe how wrong her mother was.
Edmure sighed as he stood in the Sept, watching as House Frey filed in. Patrek seemed jovial enough - not a care in the world. He had openly made eyes at the Lady Tyta who had been guarding the Queen, unashamed that he was betrothed to her younger sister. Jokingly, he told Edmure that she was decent looking and if she was a Queensguard, he couldn't wait to see his intended.
Edmure still thought all of this was a joke. Despite agreeing to it, his Uncle and his sister had to practically drag him here from Riverrun. Robb had demanded that he agree - Nysa's well-being counted on his agreeing. Of course, he agreed. But he silently wondered if Nysa would chose an ugly bride for him just to irritate him. She was terribly upset with the prisoners he had taken from House Lannister, though he knew that it wasn't all his fault.
He snorted lightly as the Queen walked in. She was escorted by a young man who looked as though he had received the greatest news of his life.
Nysa paused halfway through the aisle and turned the young man to greet Ser Raynald Westerling and Ser Rolph. It was obvious that she was introducing the young man who would be wedding Lady Jeyne. He smiled lightly at that. It was a brilliant idea to have the young women wed another - and place her where Robb wouldn't be.
After introductions were made, Nysa was escorted by the young Frey towards the King. She barely opened her mouth and gestured towards Oswell when Robb detached her from Oswell and pulled her tightly to him.
"I have it in mind to punish you harshly," he growled.
"I'll accept," she said before leaning towards his ear to whisper, "whatever you give me."
He grunted in an appreciative manner. "Do not ever leave me again," Robb growled before pressing his lips against hers in a determined way, his passion for her never dying. She responded in kind as those in the hall began to clap and cheer. Their kissing slowed as the cheers died down. He pressed one final, gentle kiss on her lips causing Nysa to sigh contentedly. Robb pressed his lips to her forehead. "I've missed you, my Queen."
"And I have missed you, my King."
Just as quickly as she was back in his arms, she left him to head towards her brother. They embraced just as tightly, Jory Cassel whispering something in her ear causing her to laugh. She pulled back as he touched her stomach and they shared a smile.
"Do not worry brother," Nysa lifted her hand to his face. "Lady Marissa is strong - both in mind and character. She will survive in the North."
"Is she nervous," Jory chuckled, "because I am."
"You have no need to be. She is the perfect Lady for you," was the response before she kissed his cheek and came to stand in front of Edmure.
"My Queen," Edmure bowed to her as her expression stayed light.
"Lord Edmure," she nodded, "I am glad that you accepted the terms. I heard that you disagreed with my choice of bride."
"Hardly," Edmure replied. "I merely disliked not having to chose for myself."
Nysa smiled politely. "I see. I'd like to put your mind at ease somewhat, Lord Edmure. Lady Roslin is very kind and generous. She has a sweet temper. The two of you will get along perfectly."
Before he could reply, another person interrupted them. "And what of my bride, my Queen?"
She took a few steps to the side until she stood in front of Ser Patrek Mallister. He smiled and bowed to her as she responded in a curtsy. "You tell me," Nysa pressed, "I hear that the two of you have exchanged letters."
"Aye, we have," Ser Patrek's smile widened. "And if they are anything to go by, my wife appears that she will not be bullied around." He leaned down towards the Queen's ear, "and she is rather flirtatious."
The young Queen shook her head before smiling at Oswell who took his place at the end. He returned her smile and then it was back to her seat where she took her place next to the King. He held her hand around the crook of his arm and leaned down to whisper pleasing words to her as she smiled. Edmure tore his eyes away and went to look down the aisle.
He noticed Lady Joyeuse Frey walk in - with more of the Frey women. He didn't understand. Were these the same women that he had heard about? He had met Lady Joyeuse once before. Surely, that couldn't be Lord Frey's newest wife. She had a smile on her and dressed in a gown that he would see befitting royalty. All of the others who came in, he narrowed his eyes as their hair was presented in delicate braids and they all smiled - smiled!
Edmure shuffled nervously, wondering what was happening. Though many were still plain - they were by no means ugly. They smiled and laughed, looked up and conversed instead of staring at the ground with sad grieving expressions - as he had remembered. What was happening?
"We have the Queen to thank for everyone's happiness," Oswell spoke up from his end as if to answer Edmure's question. "She gave life to the women here." Edmure turned to see one of the little girls - blonde hair flying from the aisle towards Nysa. She picked up the young child and introduced her to Robb and Catelyn. "The children at the Twins adore her."
"She was born to be Queen," Jory mumbled next to Edmure.
Edmure glanced at the Queen's brother before he noticed that the doors had opened to bring the brides in. The first bride to walk in was Lady Jeyne Westerling. However the look on Oswell's face showed that there was no shock as to who his bride would be. In fact, they smiled knowingly at one another.
Down in the seats, Nysa leaned over to Lady Catelyn, "I thought the least I could do before wedding her off was introduce her to her intended."
"Excellent idea," Catelyn smiled and gave her a small nod.
"Oswell is a good man. And his father didn't abandon Robb and I when we needed House Frey."
"I thought you would have given Harrenhal to Ser Stevron."
"I wanted to, but at the same time his children stand to inherit the Twins," Nysa replied as little Perra Frey squirmed out of Nysa's arm to reach for the Blackfish. Lady Catelyn and Nysa turned to look at him. He shook his head and looked forward at Edmure. "He looks too somber, doesn't he, Perra," Nysa smiled.
"If I hug the young girl, the older ones will think me eligible," Ser Brynden teased as both Nysa and Lady Catelyn hid their smiles. Either way, Perra - didn't get the hug she wanted - leaned over to kiss Ser Brynden's cheek. And when he smiled down at her, she clapped her hands before burrowing shyly into Nysa's neck.
She noticed Edmure, Patrek and Jory's attention set on the doorway. Nysa took a step around Robb to see Merrett Frey bring Marissa to a stop near their chairs. Lord Frey had insisted on covering the Frey girls until they arrived before their husbands. Nysa shuffled Perra to one side before reaching out to hug Marissa. She glanced at her brother who nodded knowingly that this was his bride.
Jory smiled lightly at the dress his bride wore. Nysa had received it a couple name-days ago but had never wore it. It was too delicate for the North, she had stated. Therefore, she sent it back to White Harbor for Wynafryd to put the dress to use. Neither Wynafryd or her sister had. Admittedly, it was a pretty dress - though Jory was certainly no judge on the matter. The second Merrett Frey pulled back the covering to reveal his daughter, Jory took a huge gulp and his breath left him.
Edmure bit his tongue and cursed lightly. Of course, she'd give her brother the prettiest girl here.
Jory glanced at Nysa who nodded encouragingly. Marissa's hand was placed in his and she offered a shy smile. Their conversation was light - that much Nysa couldn't make it out. But she smiled when seeing both her brother and Marissa's approval in one another. She turned her head to the row behind her just as Lord Walder was approaching with his two daughters.
"Lord Bolton," Nysa began.
"My Queen," he nodded to her.
"I heard from many of the Ladies here that you chose one of Lord Frey's granddaughters as a wife. It's a shame that we were not able to attend your wedding," she smiled gently as both Robb and Lady Catelyn turned to look at him in surprise.
Lord Bolton smiled politely before nodding. "It was arranged rather quickly, my Queen."
"I'm sure it was," Nysa replied, looking him up and down. "My brother is to wed your wife's sister. It would appear that you and I are kin now," she added.
"So it would, my Queen," he nodded.
Nysa smiled before turning around and watching as Arwyn and Roslin were uncovered. Edmure's reaction had to be of extreme awe and shock. He glanced at Nysa then, a questioning glance. She had almost leaned over to Lady Catelyn to ask what was wrong with her choice but Ser Brynden answered.
"He thought you'd choose the ugliest bride to spite him," the older knight chuckled.
"I didn't choose her because she was pretty. Ser Perwyn and Olyvar spoke very highly of her character," Nysa looked at the knight. "And how Riverrun would appreciate her as its Lady."
Ser Brynden nodded in approval. "Thank you for thinking of my home. I daresay, I think they'll get along just fine."
They converted the high table into something longer to hold Lord Frey, his wife and his two newly wed daughters and their husbands. Jeyne, Oswell, Marissa and Jory had another special table arranged for them next to the high table. Lady Catelyn shared table with Ser Brynden, Lord Bolton and Lord Karstark. Across from them sat the King and Queen - and the Queen's myriads of admirers. Robb attempted to apologize to each of them but he never truly found a listening ear from the women. They all wanted to speak to the Queen. Every now and then, she'd tug on his arm and introduce him to a young child - boy or girl - and they'd ask him endless questions about the North, his direwolf, capturing the Kingslayer, the Wall - anything and everything to sate their curiosity of their King.
"I think you'll make an excellent father," Nysa leaned against him as the children had been hurried to bed. This part of the feast had gotten rowdier and the wine had begun to flow in abundance.
Robb pressed his lips to her forehead, his hand snaking around her waist to pull her closer. "I had dearly wished for our son to be born in the North, but it looks like he may be born in the Riverlands, just as I was."
"Son, is it," Nysa pushed back with a teasing smile.
"I think it is," he placed his hand on her stomach, marveling at how it had grew. "Our little Prince," he smirked behind his beard. Nysa hummed in agreement before pressing her lips to his.
They shared a few light kisses before a throat cleared in front of their table.
"Forgive me, my King." Nysa turned away from Robb and smiled at the young man in front of them. "But I told my father that I would not go to bed until I've had a dance with our Queen," he said as Robb narrowed his eyes at him. He sunk down slightly before Nysa tilted her head at him, encouraging him to be brave.
Nysa leaned over to Robb. "Bryan Frey," she introduced him, "Ser Stevron's youngest grandson. We've already met his great-granddaughters. Little Perra didn't want to leave my side during the wedding."
"Ah," Robb nodded before glancing at the young man. "Well, as long as you promise me to keep her safe. And watch that she doesn't step on your feet," he whispered to Bryan which got a playful slap on the arm from his wife.
"I will, your Grace," young Bryan bowed down before holding out his hand for Nysa to take.
She had barely left the table, when she pushed one of the young Frey women towards him. "I hate to leave you on your own, my King. After all this is a wedding feast," Nysa said the last part loudly as the men and women lifted their cups and cheered.
The music was lively as Nysa was led out to the floor. Robb sipped his cup before guiding the young Frey woman out. Soon, there were crowds of dancing couples around them. Robb and Nysa never shared a dance together however. She had been swept away by almost every Northern Lord or Riverlands knight. Robb on the other hand, enjoyed dancing and conversing with the various women from House Frey. He had even encouraged the Mormont women to share a dance with him.
Nysa had just danced a third time with Harrion Karstark when she insisted that she needed to rest. One of the young Frey women came to the table then, asking for a dance. Harrion was loath to part from her side.
"Go," Nysa insisted.
"I could always escort you to your room, my Queen - especially if you tired."
"I just need to rest. But," she pulled him closer, "this is Zia Frey, one of Lord Frey's great-granddaughters. She has heard many things about men from the North - many good things."
"Then, let me not disappoint," Harrion smiled at her before standing up and leading the young woman to the floor.
"And how is our Queen this evening," Lord Rickard Karstark walked towards Nysa and sat down by her.
"Tired," she smiled at him. "I was thinking of retiring early."
At least she would be safe if she did, Lord Karstark thought for a moment. He watched as she turned her smile from him and looked over towards the other end of the hall. Nysa rest her hand on her stomach and rubbed it softly. Rickard tried not be resentful over the fact that it was not Torrhen's. He should be glad that it was his King's, his liege lord's heir. But he remembered how Torrhen had missed her, how plagued he was that he did not stop her from leaving Winterfell.
"I think Lord Umber needs to be rescued," Nysa laughed suddenly causing him to follow her line of sight.
"No," he chuckled. "He'll drink those Freys under the table."
"Aye, he probably will. The Umbers are built to resist even the strongest of wine," she laughed again before turning to him. "It reminds me of the feast Lord Stark held at Winterfell. Torrhen and I," she began to tell him of her memory, moving her hand from her stomach and touching his arm lightly.
She had an affectionate nature about her. It made him feel guilty.
"He and I were challenging one another with our wine," Nysa kept smiling. "We hid behind the the Greatjon's table. The Greatjon turned around and decided to challenge us as well. In the end, Torrhen and I would have fallen asleep on the tables if Jory and Harrion had not come to carry us off. I guess we can both guess who the winner was."
Nysa laughed lightly again and Rickard could not help but to join her.
"Why did you hide behind the Greatjon's table?"
"If Lady Stark had discovered me participating in a drinking contest that would have been the end of it," she jested before turning towards Lord Bolton. "Also that table was on the opposite end of the Bolton's table."
"I think I remember that feast," he answered allowing her to draw him into the memory. "Torrhen threw Bolton's son across the room."
"Torrhen was defending me," she replied. "He was there before things got bad. I was so scared and I guess he could sense it from wherever he sat," she said with a content look upon her face.
Speaking of his youngest son, made him feel a tad uncomfortable. The way she looked appeared as though she were still in love with him. He cleared his throat. "What happened after that?"
"Harrion escorted me away and then Torrhen came and made me laugh before suggesting that we challenge one another. Your sons always knew the right thing to do."
Rickard Karstark would have laughed at that. His sons were true northmen, warriors to the bone. But they also had heart, his wife made sure of that. Harrion had warned his father that Robb Stark was still their King. Harrion knew of the right thing to do and this was not the way to earn justice for Torrhen or Eddard.
"Mariah raised them to believe in what was right," Rickard stated before he could stop himself. "If it were left to me, I doubt that," he shook his head, "I doubt that my sons would come out the way they did."
"They were good men, all of them," Nysa smiled lightly, "and so is their father."
Rickard chuckled softly. "I only hope the same will come of my daughter. She is charming but spoiled," he chuckled. "That feast that you spoke of, I remember Mariah was trying to get Alys to dance with Bran Stark. She was determined not to dance. I told Mariah to leave the girl be but in the end, Alys went to dance with the little Stark boy."
Nysa snaked her hand around his arm and leaned against him as she smiled. "She enjoyed it. I think they both did."
"A bit too much," he growled. "They were found later on in the library."
"Reading," Nysa insisted innocently as Rickard shook his head.
What she said was true, the two of them were just reading about a story of dragons. It was innocent - the two of them were both too young to have such thoughts but the idea of his daughter sitting alone with another had been too much for him that evening.
"Torrhen was not the only one rescuing maidens in distress. If I remember correctly the reason why Alys ended up with Bran in there was to avoid the scene in the hall. Lord Ryswell's and Lord Tallhart's sons were fighting over who would dance with her next. And your cousin's son, Willam, gallantly strode in there to save her."
"I would hardly consider Willam to be gallant," he bellowed with laughter.
"No, I suppose not. Especially after that time Torrhen and Harrion came back from a hunt. They had a bear's claw with them and chased Willam around Karhold with it, the poor thing," she shook her head and Rickard turned to see her lost in the memory. "I would not say it then but I believe Willam screamed more than Alys had. Alys laughed but then she marched up to her brothers the same as Lady Mariah had and began to chastise them about it."
Rickard realized just how much Nysa had been a part of House Karstark. She had probably just as much stories or memories of Karhold as anyone in his family. She spent months there whenever she would visit. He remembered walking to Mariah's rooms and seeing Nysa there helping her with something. His wife enjoyed Nysa's company. He remembered seeing her carrying Alys, reassuring her, playing with her and teaching her words. His daughter cried for Nysa when she had gotten hurt one day and Nysa hurried to her side.
"I always admire Lady Mariah for that," Nysa continued pulling him from his thoughts.
"In what way," he asked her missing the conversation.
"She has this way with people," she answered. "I never knew my mother. All I was told was that she was a Southern Lady. And despite being told that I myself should act as one, I felt that being a Northern Lady was far better. Lady Dacey," she nodded to her, "and all her sisters, Lady Sarra Umber," she named the Greatjon's wife, "Lady Sybelle Glover," she gestured towards Lord Glover, "who knows what atrocities the Ironborn did to their homes and castles. But they are strong Northern Ladies, they'll persevere. They all do. Your wife is no exception," Nysa's eyes began to water and Rickard gave her hand a gentle pat. "She is bold and brave. That is how I want to be."
Rickard laughed then. "Aye, she could coax a bear out of it's nest during the winter. The North may be stubborn - its' lands and its' men - but they yield to the gentleness of an affectionate woman." He shook his head.
Nysa smiled encouragingly. "I think about what she would do if she had defend her home, protect her house and guide her husband as I do. As earlier mentioned, I never knew my mother. Lady Catelyn showed me compassion, duty and responsibility. But Lady Mariah showed me how to be brave," Nysa smiled and moved her other hand up to her cheek. Rickard reached over and wiped her tear before she could. "Forgive me. This is a celebration and I am ruining the mood."
"Hardly," Rickard objected. "It is to talk about her and share in the good memories of Karhold."
"I do miss her. I pray she were here to guide me, especially in times like these. She always had the best advice."
"Aye, I miss her wisdom too."
Rickard smiled and then saw her hand was tracing the Karstark sigil on her sword.
"You still carry that with you?"
Nysa looked down and then nodded. "I take it wherever I go - when possible. I like to think that he is still protecting me when I have it in my hand," she smiled.
It was obvious the 'he' that he spoke of was Torrhen. It surprised him a bit. True, they had been talking about memories of his wife and son but somehow this felt as though it were closer to her heart. "You think of him, even though you are wed," he pressed.
"I know some believe that I betrayed Torrhen by wedding Robb so soon after hearing of his death. It was not right what we did. I suppose we both were mourning people we cared about but that was still no excuse."
"You meant it," Lord Karstark asked again. "When we were in Riverrun," he alluded to that moment.
"Robb is my husband and my King. I carry his child," she rest her hand back on her stomach once more. "But all of that does not erase Torrhen from my heart. A part of me will always love him, carry him with me," she eyed the sword. "Robb and I spoke of this. He and I are wed now and though," she paused and smiled lightly, "though I love my husband and my King, the father of my child," she sighed happily, "yes, Lord Karstark, I still think fondly of your son. I don't pray to replace him with Robb or the other way around - not anymore. But I do think of him and how so desperately I want to avenge him."
Rickard nodded slowly and reached out to take her hand in his. "My Queen, there is something of utmost importance I wanted to share with you," he said in a hushed tone as he reached inside his tunic. He could see now that the love was still there. He was going to warn her now, tell her of Lord Bolton's plans.
His fingers had just wrapped around the letter when someone came to stand in front of their table.
"Is everything alright?"
They both looked up to see Robb - a bit breathless and with a small smile on his face. "Of course, my King," Nysa answered with the same smile. "Lord Karstark and I were just sharing fond memories."
His hand retreated from the letter as his other hand released his hold on the Queen. "I'll leave you two to enjoy the feast," Lord Karstark went to stand, "my King, my Queen," he bowed to both of them.
"Thank you, Lord Karstark," Nysa nodded her head, "for keeping me company. I hope you don't stay away too long. I much enjoy speaking about anything else other than this war."
"Of course, my Queen," he smiled before moving through the hall.
Lord Karstark had continued walking through the crowds of men and women until he came towards his son who had just finished dancing with one of the Lord Frey's granddaughters. Harrion nodded to the group he was with before pushing away and marching towards his father.
"Tell our guards to pull back," Rickard told his son in a hushed but hurried manner.
"Half of us weren't going to participate in it anyway," Harrion gritted through his teeth. "Torrhen adored Nysa and you're ready to..."
"I'm not," Rickard answer, "not anymore," he shook his head. "That girl," he gestured towards Nysa, "she is a Karstark, no matter who she wed. Her heart is and always will be in Karhold. She loves your sister. She admires your mother. And she'll get us vengeance for your brothers. I don't know why I..."
"We all make mistakes," Harrion told him. "It's not too late to fix this."
"Aye, it's not," Lord Karstark nodded. He glanced one more time at the young woman who had captured his son's heart and who would always hold him in hers, the young woman who helped save his daughter, the young woman who had a strong affection for his wife. "For Torrhen," he whispered.
Jory paused and shook his head. "I think I've spoken enough about the North, my Lady."
Marissa smiled and blushed. "It is to become my home now. I should dearly want to know more about it."
"Surely, the Queen has told you all sorts of stories about it."
"Aye, she has," Marissa looked up at him. "I've also heard stories of you, my Lord."
"Ah," he groaned as she laughed. "The Queen has many embarrassing stories of me, I hope she chose the right ones so as not to humiliate me greatly. And it's Jory, please," he insisted.
"If that be the case, then I should insist that you call me by my name as well," she leaned towards him - forward but still a little shy. It was enough to tell him that she was still nervous about being his wife, still nervous about going to the North - to unfamiliar territory. "Is Greenhall far from Winterfell," she asked then before looking down, "Jory?"
"Barely a day's ride away," he reached under her chin and lifted it until her eyes met his, "Marissa."
Something strange stirred in Jory then. This woman is his wife now. He had talked to Nysa about it when she was younger - that they would both wed for love. He didn't want to have to 'learn' to love a wife. And considering their circumstances, he knew that it would be possible. But here he was - wedding a stranger, for political gain, an arrangement made by a Queen and a Lord. And despite how different the ideal was of what he had originally purposed he found that he did not care as much. She would become a Cassel. She would be his family. She would be rewarded with all the respect and admiration that he had to give.
Jory went to inform his wife of just that before Lord Frey called the King.
"Your Grace," Lord Frey shouted as the Frey men began to cheer. He put up his hand to silence them as Jory glanced towards the high table to see what this was about. "The Septon has prayed his prayer, the words were said and my two daughters along with my granddaughter," he lifted his cup towards Marissa, "have been wrapped in cloaks. My grandson has brought a new woman into House Frey. But they are all not man and wife, yet," he cackled as did the other Freys.
Jory didn't like where this was going.
"A sword needs a sheath," Lord Frey laughed.
Marissa looked down in horror as she heard her father claim that her mother was a good fit - so she should be too. Jory took her hand in his and stroked it gently. Now he understood which part of the feast this was. There was no easy way to get out of this - especially if the men were all cheering for it.
"And a wedding needs a bedding," Lord Frey shouted as Nysa stood up quickly.
"My Lord Frey," Nysa interrupted. "I promised the girls that there would be no bedding ceremony. I'm sure their husbands would not want any man to touch their wife."
She sighed, closing her eyes as the entire hall filled with shouts, chanting 'bed' over and over again.
"We are in the Riverlands, my Queen. And it is tradition," Lord Frey said. "What say you, my King?"
Robb stood slowly as the chanting for the bedding ceremony continued. Nysa looked at him pleadingly. Jory knew though, he'd give in. He'd oblige House Frey this tradition - the men demanded it. The moment Nysa bit her lip and looked down, the men howled louder - knowing their King was calling for the bedding.
Robb turned around to look at the hall as it quieted down before smiling up at Edmure, Patrek, Jory and then Oswell. "I must agree with you, Lord Frey. I think the husbands are ready. Let us bed them," he answered as groups of men flew past him, rushing towards Roslin, Arwyn, and Jeyne.
Jory stood up quickly and raised a hand towards the oncomers.
"I know this is tradition, but I will take my wife to our chambers, myself."
"My Lord Cassel," Lord Frey began.
Jory turned to look at him. "The Queen is right. I don't want anyone touching my wife but me. She is mine now. You'll know I've bedded her in the morning."
Nysa nodded towards him in appreciation - glad that she could at least spare one bride the humiliation. She turned to see Roslin and Arwyn being hoisted up over the men's shoulders - their gowns being thrown off of their bodies the second they reached the doors. Nysa reached her hand out for Jeyne to see that the Frey men were enjoying carrying her off a bit too much. Jeyne put on a brave but nervous smile as she passed Nysa. Lady Catelyn, Arya, Lyra and Dacey had come to stand by Nysa's side at that exact moment.
"This is tradition," Lady Catelyn reminded them.
"I'd stab the men who decided to do that to me," Arya said from next to her as the Frey women and a few from other Riverland Houses came to escort Edmure, Patrek and Oswell away.
"Half-way down the hall your father did exactly that for me," she looked over at Arya with a smile, "only he broke the man's jaw with his fist, before carrying me away from them."
"I wanted to spare the brides," Nysa said.
"I know," Catelyn touched her shoulder.
They smiled at one another before Nysa noticed her brother and Marissa leaving. "Marissa," Nysa pushed past the crowd and hugged the young woman.
She was shaking and Nysa thought of something she could say to calm the bride. Just as she was ready, Marissa whispered into her ear, "My grandfather has betrayed you, my Queen."
Nysa tensed slightly before giving Marissa's body a quick and affectionate squeeze. She pushed back and looked the young woman in the eyes. "You have nothing to fear, Marissa. My brother will treat you kindly."
"My Queen," she was confused as to whether the Queen heard her or not. But Nysa most certainly did. If she reacted now, they would know. So, she kissed Marissa on the forehead and watched her brother escort her out.
Tyta came by then and looked at her solemnly. "I know," Nysa whispered.
"Know what," Tyta questioned.
Nysa stared hard into the eyes of the woman she had asked to become one of her personal guards. "I know," she said slowly and with determination. Those two words conveying exactly what she knew - they had been betrayed. She just wasn't sure where it would come from and how it would start.
"You promised me earlier that I could go with you," Tyta began. "That you would allow me freedom as long as I protected you and your family?" Nysa nodded. "Then, perhaps my Queen, you'd like to take part in the ceremony?" Nysa raised an eyebrow at her, wondering what this was about. "It'll get you out of here," she leaned in.
Nysa understood then, the act of betrayal was going to take place here - after everyone had left. The wine had been shared, the bedding taking place and the soldiers all outside of the Twins.
"Lady Catelyn," Nysa went to grab her.
"I'm too old for such a ceremony," she smiled politely, clearing ignorant of the exchange. "You girls go," she urged.
Nysa had to warn Robb. She had to stay. But...
"Arya," Nysa turned to her.
"What," Arya questioned in a disgusted tone.
"I am a married woman now," Nysa smiled at Tyta. "Princess Arya, why don't you join the other young women?" Arya stuck out her tongue and feigned a dry-heaving noise. She had to make sure someone got out of the hall now and warn the men outside. The only groom left in the hall was Ser Patrek. The time for Arya to leave was definitely now. Nysa hugged Arya towards her tightly and fiercely. "Grey Wind needs to find his sisters right now," she said quickly, "we're all in danger, Arya."
Arya stopped squirming out of Nysa's arms at the statement.
"We've been betrayed," she whispered as she felt Arya's body inhale a deep breath.
Nysa released the calm but frightened girl and nodded to her.
"I'll go with you, Tyta."
"Really, Arya," Lady Catelyn questioned.
"Oh yes," Arya put on a smile, "I was just waiting for Lord Edmure to leave. I didn't want to see his cock, mother," she said, running after the group of women before Lady Catelyn could scold her.
Nysa had Lyra follow Arya out and commanded that the young woman ensure Arya found her way back. Everything about the conversation was innocent and Nysa was sure that no one could tell that she knew. She glanced around the room as they continued to clap and cheer as the final couple exited.
The first person to meet her eyes was Ser Stevron. He had known about their plot. She had gave him gold and still...
Ser Stevron slowly shook his head and lifted his cloak to reveal he wore the Stark sigil on his clothing. Nysa smiled in relief as he smiled in return. He nodded towards a few other Frey knights who lifted their cups to her. She wasn't alone. The betrayal wasn't full scope. But who else was there? Who was on the other side? Which members of House Frey were in it?
Nearby clapping interrupted her thoughts and she saw Robb coming to stand by her. "Forgive me. I know you didn't want it," Robb began. "But it is tradition. How else will they know that the bride and groom have consummated their marriage?"
Nysa smiled brightly at him, attempting to calm her nerves, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"There are other ways to know a man has bedded his wife, Robb," she leaned up to give him a light kiss.
He groaned in appreciation, moving his hands from her round belly to her backside. The kiss deepened before they had to pull away for air. Their foreheads touched as they smiled at one another. As she saw Lothar Frey and Ser Aenys and a few others out of the corner of her eye, she knew that the attack was going to happen soon.
"I love you," she pulled back and looked up into his eyes. "I always have and I always will," she said as the smile remained on his face. "I just wanted you to know, just in case we don't survive the night."