Chapter 31

Tyrion Lannister sat there with a shocked expression on his face before glancing at Pod. Sansa had learned that the young man served as Lord Tyrion's squire. He looked to be quite young - perhaps closer to her age than anything. She stood there with a calm smile on her face and tried to dismiss the feeling of being frightened. This man was to become her husband soon - very soon, according to rumor.

"I had not thought that you'd want to discuss any wedding arrangements," Tyrion offered.

"You are to be the groom, aren't you," Sansa smiled.

"Yes, but..."

"Well then," Sansa walked inside and sat down in a nearby chair. "Perhaps we can discuss a few requests that I would have."

Tyrion glanced at Pod and waved his hand. Pod left the area only to return quickly with a plate of fruit. He sat it down in front of Sansa before hurrying to pour both Tyrion and Sansa some wine.

Sansa looked at Tyrion, remembering what Margery had spoken of. He apparently had talent in pleasing a woman. Sansa blushed for the indecent thought before turning towards Pod to thank him for the wine. Tyrion wasn't a fearless knight such as Loras - no, he most certainly was not. But he did have a kind heart and would bravely defend her - even to Joffrey.

An image of his figure standing before the Iron Throne, holding out his hand for her to take, for her to leave Joffrey. He had also offered her an alternative to end her betrothal to Joffrey.

Another image of his concerned face as Ser Preston carried her inside from the mob that had attacked them - attacked her. He had desired to ensure her safety and well-being - far more than Joffrey every did, especially on that day.

Another fleeting memory of him sharing his condolences after her father had been executed. He had been the only one to do so. Lord Baelish had tried - oh yes, he did try. But she could see the sincerity on Tyrion's face. She had dared to hope that someone could comfort her. Instead her face had hardened, and she called her father a 'traitor'.

"I understand that your father hasn't named an heir to Casterly Rock yet," Sansa began.

Tyrion choked on his wine. His eyes widened before looking up at her. Sansa on the other hand looked away and quickly took a sip from her cup before setting it back down. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and waited for Tyrion to respond.

Tyrion downed his cup quickly before gesturing for Pod to refill it.

"I would also ask that you not drink as much when we are wed," Sansa smiled politely.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Already the nagging starts," he playfully replied before downing his cup again. "I have a high tolerance for wine, my Lady. But if it is your wish, then we can perhaps speak more on the matter after we are wed."

"I would also ask that you no longer take residence in a brothel."

Tyrion smiled. "That might be an impossibility for me. I have certain tastes, my Lady."

Sansa shifted nervously as Tyrion smiled again before turning to wave Pod away. She had approached him, come to speak with him about their marriage. And as doomed as he felt that it was, he knew that since his father had decided upon it that there truly was no way around it. Shae was already not speaking to him. And though he seriously considered Bronn's advice - wed one and bed the other - Tyrion felt a powerful sense of respect for the young woman in front of him. Could he bring himself to dishonor Sansa?

"Why are you here, Lady Sansa? I had seriously thought that you'd want to relieve yourself from this match."

She offered him a kind smile before standing to take his empty cup from his hand. For a brief moment, he thought that she was going to fill it with wine. Instead she took a rag and wiped it clean. Walking over to the pitcher of water, she then poured that into his cup.

"I would rather you have a clear mind when we speak, my Lord," Sansa said, bringing the cup back to his desk.

Tyrion smirked as she set it down. He turned to look up at her. "I have very few luxuries on my side. I do not have the height, so I cannot become a knight," he chuckled. "I do not have the physical strength; therefore, I cannot do many things befitting a Lord. What I can do, I do it well. And one of those things is drinking while I talk. To save your ears the debauchery, I will say that another is drinking while I engage in another activity," he finished as Sansa blushed. "Do you plan on taking my one talent away from me?"

"I'm sure you have other talents, my Lord."

Another smile fell upon Tyrion's face before Sansa retreated to her seat. Tyrion obliged her small request and went to drink from his cup. The water was tasteless of course, but he dared not linger on the thought. He found the short sip to be refreshing and wasn't about to inform her of that.

"You could wed one of my cousins," Tyrion informed her of that instead. "They are handsome, younger," he titled his head back and forth, "taller."

"But only you are Lord Tywin's son."

Tyrion snorted at that. "I suppose there is some truth behind that."

"I want to be made Lady of Casterly Rock," Sansa stated.

Tyrion paused in his seat, the air filled with tension slightly as he thought about Sansa's request. He sat there, contemplating the thought. His father may not make him Lord of Casterly Rock but if Sansa went forth with the request, it might just change his father's heart on the matter. There simply was no one else who could take over as Lord of Casterly Rock. Would he name Tommen as his heir?

"I was betrothed to a Prince - who is now the King," Sansa started. "I felt like I would be robbed if I could not at least have this," she said in a gentle tone. "We could both speak to your father and discuss it, together," she pressed.

Tyrion turned the other way and sighed. Sansa's statement had reminded him that she had indeed suffered. Now it was in his hands to settle the matter. He nodded and looked up at her.

"Perhaps as wedding gift, my father might consider it."

The walk to their chambers had been quiet. Jory could swear he heard Marissa's heart beating wildly. He had gathered from their earlier conversation that she had two older sisters who were already wed. Her mother was still alive. Surely, someone had talked to her about what would happen tonight. From Nysa's earlier actions, he could only assume that the brides had spoken of the bedding ceremony with her. And judging from the way the Frey men tore apart their sisters' and Jeyne's gowns, he was certain that they had experienced one too many a bedding.

He looked Marissa over as they entered. She quickly walked towards a window and stared out of it helplessly. She was worried about the Queen. Jory still believed it to be nervousness.

Jory had just turned to close the doors when two Frey guards had appeared. "Do not worry about it, I brought my bride here," Jory commanded them but they did not move.

Marissa closed her eyes and felt a tear fall down her cheek. No, she thought. They're here to make sure that she didn't say anything. And if she did, then they'd kill him - her husband. She wiped her face quickly and tore her gaze towards the door. Slowly, she walked towards it and pushed it close. Leaning her forehead against the wooden form, she exhaled deeply. She told the Queen beforehand. She had also heard that half of her Uncles weren't going to follow through on the plan. They'd protect the Queen. But what if they were overwhelmed? What if...

Jory touched her shoulder then and she looked back at him.

"There's no need to be frightened of tonight," Jory assured her.

Marissa's heart beat lightly. He appeared to be so concerned about her well-being, asking if she had everything ready for her journey North, if she wanted to take a brother or cousin with her as Arwyn and Roslin were going to do as well. The Queen was right. Despite him being a soldier from the North, he had a gentle side as well. How could she be so fortunate to receive a kind husband?

"If you wish to talk more..."

"No," Marissa shook her head. "Let us go to bed," she looked towards the door before leading Jory towards the bed. They both sat down slowly, her hands in his. "You've done this before, haven't you, my Lord? I mean, Jory," she said quickly.

"Would you be upset with me if I had," Jory questioned. He knew he shouldn't lie about it, but he also didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"A part of me is," Marissa admitted. "On the other hand, that informs me that you know how this will go, so," she paused and looked up shyly at him.

"With two sisters wed, I'm sure you've heard about," he paused and lifted her hand to his mouth, "how this will go," he pressed his lips gently to her skin.

Marissa blushed and pulled her hand free. She stood then and slowly began to peel her dress off. Jory had itched to help her, to feel the first signs of her soft and smooth form. He couldn't believe how quickly he was becoming aroused. Had it been that long since he took a woman to his bed?

Marissa's breathing was harsh as her skin was flushed with heat as the dress fell to the floor. She had just a thin shift on with a tie here and a tie there. One tug and the material would come completely off. But she stood there in front of her husband, feeling the tension burning between their bodies. Jory placed a hand on her waist. It burned, and she nearly felt her knees go weak at the contact.

Jory's other hand reached up to free her hair from her braid. The dark blonde hair flowed around her face as he untangled his fingers. She sighed when he skimmed her neck and let his fingers trail down her body.

She had heard about bedding from her sisters, her mother and of course the Queen. She heard horror stories as well as pleasurable ones.

"You won't do something that I don't want right," Marissa asked before she could stop herself.

Jory shook his head before taking her hands and placing them on his shoulders. "You tell me you don't like it and I'll stop," he stated. "Now, would my wife like to undress me?"

"I," Marissa shifted from one foot to the other. "I'd like to start. And if I'm too nervous to..."

Jory nodded in understanding.

Marissa started with his boots - for she deemed that the safest. She marveled at his body - the scars and roughness of his skin as she moved his tunic from his middle, pass his chest and over his head. All the while, she could feel his eyes watching her. Silently, he took her hand again and placed it on his bare chest, giving her permission to explore.

Pushing gently on him to lay back, Jory did as Marissa urged. He waited - his hardest to be damned patient - as she untied his laces and pulled his breeches down. She gasped as he felt the cool air hit his hard cock. Biting his lip to stop the groan from coming out, he stared at the ceiling - that was until he left her soft fingers touch him there.

"Marissa," he groaned out.

"I'm sorry," she quickly retracted, pushing off the bed and standing a couple steps back.

Jory cursed before wiping his face in frustration. His body was eager, but he had to be patient. "No," he sat up quickly and held out his arms to her, "it is I who should be asking forgiveness from you, my wife." He nodded once more as she slowly came back towards the bed and crawled over his body. She glanced down at his cock before looking at his face in confusion. "It's been so long that the pleasure of having you is growing wild every second."

"Would you rather I just lay back then, husband," she questioned in a total submissive gesture. Jory didn't like it. This is what he was afraid of. This is what Marissa was afraid of. She had heard how husbands rather their wives be quiet and just spread their legs. She was about ready to do the same when Jory placed a hand on hers.

"No, my foolish, precious, young wife," Jory smiled. "I would rather have it if you were willing," he pulled her hand off the hem of her shift and pressed on the fingers, "begging, pleading."

"Oh," she moaned in response.

"What do you want," he sucked gently on her fingers, causing a surge of heat to weave through her.

"I've heard there's pleasure from sharing a bed between man and wife," she whispered as his lips moved down her arm, sending tingles through her. "Will you show me, husband?"

"It'll be both of our pleasures," Jory growled reaching her neck, nibbling on her skin there, "wife."

Arya ran faster than she thought possible through the hall until she came across Gendry. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the men who were insisting that he drink some wine - toast to the wedding. He had barely gotten a word out when she began to search his pants.

"Arry," Gendry cursed and tried to push her hands away.

"Needle," she asked, holding out her hand then. He pulled it off from the side of his body before handing it to her in a mock bow. "If you call me 'my Lady' one more time, I'll gut you," she wretched the sword from his grasp and proceeded to take it. "Stop drinking, we're under attack."

"Typical Arry," he rolled his eyes. "I told you earlier this is a wedding feast," he gestured to the halls, "the women are supposed to wear gowns."

Arya grabbed onto his tunic by the collar, pulling him closer towards her. "We may die this night," she gazed at him before pressing a kiss quickly to his lips, "listen to me, for once you stupid bull!" She pushed him back into the dirt. The other men cheered at the kiss. Lyra had just reached her side when Arya turned around and went towards the stables where she had heard they kept her brother's direwolf.

Lyra ran alongside her, punching the nearest man and taking his sword. "Something is happening, isn't it?"

"Rouse every man that isn't drunk. My brother, mother and Nysa are no longer safe," Arya instructed before three Frey men came to a stand in front of her. "As Princess, I demand that you..."

One of them laughed before moving towards her then. She remembered all that Syrio, Dacey and the others had taught her. The man fought hard against her, but Arya was determined.

Her brother was in there. Her mother was in there. Nysa was in there.

She thought about all that she had lost - her father, her home. She wouldn't lose them not anymore. She darted on the side, using speed and agility to her vantage point. Needle was small but perfect for her and she had just maneuvered her way under the Frey guard when his body twisted and fell to the ground. With complete confidence, she jumped onto his body and plunged her sword to his throat - not once, not twice, not even three times. She pierced him with the pointy end until he stopped moving.

This was for her father, for the North.

They weren't going to take anything else away, not this time.

She turned her head to see Lyra Mormont spin on her knees and stick her sword behind her, pushing it one final time into the man's midsection. The other Frey guard already lied to the side - no doubt due to Lyra's efficiency. Lyra smiled as she pulled her sword out from the guard and stood up slowly. She kicked the guard over, causing him to down before she looked back at Arya.

"Well done, Princess."

"You too," Arya nodded before pushing back the doors. She found Grey Wind in there chained like an animal, howling and barking like mad. "I know boy," she smiled with a gleam in her eye that could match his wolfish grin.

Lyra moved the doors completely open just in time to see Arya on the back of Grey Wind.

"Tell them that 'Winter is coming'," Arya said. Grey Wind let out one long howl before taking off. She clung to Grey Wind as he charged out of the castle walls and started calling for his sisters.

Marissa moaned lightly as Jory's fingers slipped out of her before gliding back in. Her mouth parted beautifully with each thrust of his fingers. Jory growled as she held onto him, her hands clutching tightly onto him as though she never wanted him to let go. He whispered her name, kissing and sucking on her neck, shoulder and slowly made his way to her breasts.

"Jory," she screamed at the sweet torture he was pouring out on her. Something tightened inside with each movement, each kiss, each breath on her skin.

"Give yourself to me, Marissa," Jory mumbled darting his tongue out to take her breasts into his mouth.

"Gods," Marissa moaned, wrapping one of her hands into his hair as he suckled on her. She thought they were only for babes, but Jory was proving her wrong - so desperately, passionately, frustratingly wrong. "I need," she panted and spread her legs wider. "I need..."

"I know what you need," Jory moved his head to her other breast and started to nibble as his fingers picked up speed.

Marissa screamed this time as something broke inside of her, causing her eyes to open wide, her breath to leave her and her body to fly off the bed. When she came back to down from the stars, she ran her fingers up his chest and brought his face up to hers. Jory moaned as she took initiative in the fervent kissing that was to begin. She had been so nervous when they first kissed but now it was obvious that she yearned for it, wanted him closer, wanted something.

Jory's hand trailed down her body, gripping her leg gently, lifting it slowly higher up. He pulled away and let his lips trail down her neck. He didn't stop there. He continued back to her breasts. Again, the thought of a babe ran through her mind. No one told her that there could be so much pleasure if a man suckled them as well. He didn't stay in that spot long and Marissa hummed in annoyance. Pushing herself up to look at why he had moved on.

The kisses on her stomach tickled and made her squirm all over again. It wasn't until his body moved down and settled between her legs that she tensed. "What are you doing?"

"Relax Marissa," Jory's lips nibbled onto her inner thigh, causing her to throw her back. She began to protest in shame. It felt so good, but she couldn't believe that he was going to kiss her there. "You'll enjoy this. I promise it will be worth it," he assured her as she felt his tongue take a long lick.

"Ah, Jory," she gasped and screamed, gripping onto the furs. Her other leg twitched as he continued to pleasure her. She hadn't known it would feel like this, that a husband could show such attention to his wife. She craved more, and it seemed like he was willing to give her everything and anything. She shouted his name as he devoured her, taking in her juices. Lost in the pleasure that he had given her, she felt his body loom over hers and a sudden stinging made her eyes screw shut. "Jory," she grabbed onto his shoulders as he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

It's been too long, Jory thought as his cock moved slowly through her. He was certain that he wouldn't last - at least not long enough for her to derive pleasure a third time.

Marissa knew why she had been cautioned, why she had been warned. This was the part of becoming man and wife that would hurt. And yet, she knew if Jory had not prepared her in the beginning that this would have been far worse than it was. It stung a little, more a feeling of discomfort by being stretched by him, than pain. She kept her eyes closed, trying to calm her breath as Jory kissed tears away. Why was she crying?

"It's okay Marissa," Jory continued to press kisses on her face as he thrust slowly in and out. "The pain will pass," he said, "think of the pleasure. Do you want to feel it again?"

"Jory," she pleaded as he pushed himself up to look down at her. He promised then that he'd give her everything - his respect, his admiration, maybe even one day his love. She looked like heaven, she felt like the sweetest warmth that every surrounded him. She felt delicious wrapped around him, whispering his name, begging for more.

"My wife," he leaned down to kiss her neck, pouring himself inside of her with his last few thrusts.

Jory settled himself next to her and to Marissa's extreme relief, he pulled her close to him, allowing her to curl her body to his. Marissa rest her hand against his chest and smiled lightly. "Thank you."

"Whatever for," he asked.

"That was not as bad as I thought it would be - joining together as man and wife," she confessed as he chuckled and moved to press a kiss to her forehead. "You were gentle and..."

"Gentle," Jory chuckled again.

"I was told that I would have to endure the bedding, as though it were something that I wouldn't enjoy," Marissa explained, her fingers moving across his chest as he began to stroke her hair soothingly, realizing what she was explaining. "You put my mind at ease though, husband. You made me feel safe."

"As I always will," he promised as her head turned to smile up at him.

"When can we try again?"

"Sleep for now, wife. Perhaps in the morning."

"Promise," she moved her head to rest on his chest.

"Promise," he kissed her forehead.

Nysa kept her arms around Robb as she smiled in content at the peaceful moment. It was all too end soon. "Take my sword, Robb," she whispered as he looked at her in confusion. "It's under my skirts." She moved one hand to his chest and rested it there before taking a deep breath. "Are you certain about this, Lord Frey?"

At first, she wasn't certain if he had heard her but then his chuckling confirmed that she had been.

"You took away what should have been mine, Queen bastard," Lord Frey answered as he stood. "I was going to let these four marriages pass," he said as Nysa shook her head, still gazing up into Robb's eyes as the reality of the situation came onto him. "But my sons and your Lords," he added as a few people moved, "insisted that I was robbed of what was owed to me."

"Get out of here, Nysa," Robb whispered to her.

"I'm not leaving you."

Robb release a small growl and turned to look at his mother before wrapping Nysa tighter to him. "You'll die if you stay."

She shook her head. "They've closed the doors. I couldn't leave if I wanted to."

"Traitor," Lady Catelyn's voice was heard as the King and Queen held one another close. "Let them go! My only living son, please I beg of you," she started. "Robb," she called to him. "Let him take his wife and leave. We'll go back and never leave the North again," she pleaded.

"He'll let us go," Nysa stated, reaching up to touch Robb's cheek as he closed his eyes and leaned into her warmth. "Won't you, Lord Frey?"

"My King broke a promise he made to me and his Queen thought she could run my House," he replied.

"I love you," Nysa told Robb quietly.

"And I love you," he opened his eyes and leaned forward to kiss her gently.

Robb pulled her skirts up so quickly that she barely had time to turn around to see Lord Karstark stand protectively in front of her, sword drawn and pointing towards Lord Frey. A few of the Karstark guards stood by his side, protecting her as well. She stared with wide eyes as she saw one of Lord Frey's sons grab onto Lady Catelyn and place a dagger at her throat. Only it wasn't one of Lord Frey's sons - it was Lord Bolton.

"Traitor," Nysa shouted as Robb gestured with her sword towards Lord Bolton.

"Let her go, Bolton!"

Lord Bolton raised a quizzical eyebrow at the King and Queen of the North before digging his dagger into Lady Catelyn's skin. It had just pierced her flesh causing a small trickle of blood flowed down as Nysa shouted at him. He pulled her body back as he moved towards a door.

"You forget your place, Bolton," Lord Glover came to stand at Robb's side.

Others gathered to form a protective circle around one another. Dacey, Smalljon and other guards who had not participated in the ceremony grabbed whatever they could. Chairs, torches and even knives on the table were used to defend themselves. At the moment none of them had their swords or weapons and Nysa wondered how they were going to get out of this, especially since the Freys had all the steel. If Ser Stevron or the other Freys were truly on her side, they hadn't made their presence known.

"You forget yours," Lord Bolton shouted back at them.

"You chose me as your King," Robb stated. "You bent the knee and pledge your loyalty. And even if you didn't, that's the wife of your previous liege Lord, now she is your liege Lord's mother, if you don't release her now, Bolton - there will be no place for you to hide from me."

Nysa stood there, concentrating all that she could on Lord Bolton. The fire in the hall flickered. Ever since Bran - through Lady - had told her that it could do so much more, there were nights she had practiced her 'gift' after everyone had slept at the Twins.

A small gasp escaped her lips as the flames from the candles lifted away from the melted max. The orange from the torches danced down the walls and surrounded the hall.

"Let her go, Lord Bolton," Nysa said this time. "This is your last warning," she felt the heat crawling through her fingertips, felt it moving over the cracks in the walls as though they were a part of her skin rubbing against the stone.

"I think this be your last warning, girl," Lord Frey replied with a chuckle. "I'm the one with all the swords," he gestured as Ser Stevron and the others stood then.

Nysa turned her head to see them advance on her, Robb and the other Northmen.

"None of you have to die," Nysa stated as the Freys began to laugh. "You bent the knee to your King. You chose Robb Stark as your King," she repeated, glancing towards Lord Bolton. "Apologize," she smiled and stepped forward, past Lord Karstark and the others as the fire filled within her, "and perhaps we can overlook this little transgression."

"Transgression," one of the Freys laughed again, "you're the one who broke an oath to House Frey!"

"What sort of King breaks a promise to his Lords," questioned another Frey.

Before Nysa could open her mouth to reply, she noticed that a few of the Northmen were thrown swords and weapons by Ser Stevron and his company. "And the Queen made amends," Ser Stevron came to stand by their group then, giving her a slight nod. "Lady to Seagard, Lady to Riverrun, Lady to Harrenhal," he repeated, "the Queen gave House Frey that, father," he looked towards the high table. "Think of how happy she has made your daughters, your granddaughters, your wife!"

"My wife," Lord Frey scoffed. "Why the sudden affection for our women?"

Lady Frey stood up then and turned to look at him. "Because a happier wife makes for a happier life, my Lord husband," she cried out, holding a dagger to her throat. "If you cared about me or the child that I carry, then you'll stop this madness."

"Go on," he waved his hand at her, "do you think you're irreplaceable?"

Lady Joyeuse should have known that that was and would always be his reply. But if her time with the Queen taught her anything, it was that as Lady of a great House, she demanded respect. She looked behind her, noticing something in the shadows, before glancing back at her husband.

"Do you think you are irreplaceable," she questioned, lowering the dagger, her face growing serious.

Lord Frey turned towards his young wife then. "What do you..." He began to choke, his wrinkly fingers lifting towards his throat. Slowly, Arya appeared from behind his chair, moving until she stood on the side of him. She tightened the small piece of silk in her hand, watching as Lord Frey lifted a hand towards her weakly and pathetically.

"Unhand my mother, Bolton," Arya demanded as she pulled on the silk again.

"Or what, Princess," Lord Bolton scoffed.

A sudden growl was heard behind the high table followed by another and then a third. Lord Bolton's eyes widened as three direwolves appeared in the hall, advancing on him.

"Now," Bolton shouted as archers appeared on the top balcony, releasing arrows down on the crowd in the hall.

At the same time, Nymeria led the charge, tackling Lord Bolton with such precision that Lady Catelyn was freed from his grasp. Robb immediately flown to his mother's side before he heard a whimper and another growl. Grey Wind got up slowly, arrows stuck in his side and looked up at the offenders. Nymeria had slowed in her pursuit of Lord Bolton as well, as an arrow had hit her. The second wave of arrows were prepared to fly.

The fire this time had been set free. Before the archers had time to aim, fire climbed the walls towards them, engulfing them in flames. Another large flame burst on one side of the wall, overwhelming three members of House Frey who had begun to attack Dacey, Smalljon and Lord Glover. Nysa's outstretched hand was directing the fire towards the archers.

Nymeria and Lady ran through the hall - pushing through their pain to protect their Stark companions. Despite the archers being out of the way, they were still outnumbered. It would be easier to escape. Nysa went to one of the doors in the hall and pushed the flames with her hands, hoping to burn the handles off and open a way of escape for them. Her concentration was on their escape that she didn't notice Lord Bolton had come across her then.

His arm wrapped around as he lifted a dagger in his other hand.

Before she could grab onto a flame, Lord Bolton groaned and fell back, releasing her quickly.

She turned to see Lord Karstark had stabbed Lord Bolton in the leg.

"Go on, girl," Lord Karstark told her. "Get out of here!"

Nysa turned back towards the door, but it wouldn't budge. An arrow hit the wood, inches away from her. Harrion came by her with the help of two other Frey knights. "Protect our Queen," Harrion shouted as they fought off the guards, every now and then holding up shields to deflect arrows that were coming their way.

She searched the crowd for Robb - fighting to protect his injured mother. Lady Catelyn was a strong person and looked with wide eyes towards the table as Arya fought a Frey who had planned to save his father. "Get to the Princess," Nysa instructed the three men around her.

That small moment of being alone had left her open again for Lord Bolton. Lord Karstark thrust his sword out in front of her, keeping Lord Bolton from hitting her. Nysa gripped her chest as Lord Karstark fought him. She was scared for him. And the sudden fear had exhausted the heat in her. She stretched out her hands, desperate for it to cling onto the flames that were nearby.

"No," she shook her head as Lord Bolton hit Lord Karstark, causing him to fall on the ground.

Please, oh Gods, please, she begged in her, screaming that the heat start back up again. But her body felt cold. It wasn't coming.

"No," Nysa shouted as Lord Bolton brought his sword down on Lord Karstark. The older Lord lifted his sword to defend himself, but she knew he couldn't manage it on his own.

She groaned in annoyance, her hands and fingers grabbing onto nothing. The flames that were burning bright were now turning dull. She had to do something, she had to. Robb had her sword. Her head lifted to see Greatjon Umber shot down with two arrows. He groaned and pushed himself up to continue his attack. Harrion was protecting Arya but who would protect his father?

This time she was scared, feeling the breath leave her. She tried one last time to reach for the flames.

It wouldn't come.

"Your sons, Rickard," Lord Bolton shouted.

Nysa turned then to look at Lord Karstark, panting and tired, laying on the ground with his head turned towards hers. He gave her the briefest of smiles and she could have sworn it looked exactly like Torrhen.

"No," she whispered in horror.

"You may have wed a Stark, but you were always a Karstark at heart," Lord Karstark nodded to her just as Lord Bolton lifted his sword.

"No," she shouted and lunged forward, but it was too late.

Lord Karstark gasped as the sword plunged into his chest. His head turning to look upwards as blood filled his mouth.

Nysa dropped to her knees, releasing a loud screech. All the pain and sorrow built up as she saw Lord Karstark's breath leave him. The pain of him never being in her life hit her harder than she thought it would.

"Why are you scared, girl," Lord Karstark barked.

"The seals. Is it true that..."

"No seal will get you here," he answered her.

All these memories began to flood her mind. The first time Torrhen had dropped a seal in front of her - Lord Karstark had walked up behind him and plainly stated that nothing would harm her, not as long as he and his sons were around to hunt down the beast.

"Both Lady Mariah and the child are just fine. You have a daughter, Lord Karstark," Nysa smiled at him as he hurried past her.

Just before he entered the room, he paused and looked at Nysa. "Thank you, girl. I am forever grateful."

From the moment, she had arrived, she thought everyone was wrong for thinking Lord Stark was a strict man. She thought that Lord Karstark's demeanor was cold and distant. But she had seen it around Karhold - the way he helped his sons, guided them, instructed them. She believed he didn't care but she had witnessed it - his gentleness with Alys, his affection for his wife, his respect for Lord Stark - and by consequence, his respect for her as a maiden in Lord Stark's household.

Lord Karstark covering her with another fur cloak as she prayed in the godswood to give her strength to help Lady Mariah, the gloves he had made for her when she was too cold to venture out to the bay or the way he insisted that she eat at their table. The memory of him standing outside her door one night - after he caught her and Torrhen locked in an embrace - with a guard from House Karstark who would chaperone her during her visits.

"It would be disrespectful should my son bring dishonor to a maiden under Lord Stark's care," Lord Karstark added.

"I would not want to bring dishonor to House Karstark," she curtsied. "If I have done anything wrong, I apologize for..."

"You've done nothing wrong, girl, except grow into a young woman," he insisted before gesturing for Waylyn to stand at her door.

They were small moments, small memories, small incidents, but they were more than she deserved. He had accepted her as part of his House, part of his family - whether he said it out loud or not. She recalled as he had welcomed her to Karhold, to the moments he reassuringly comforted her. She saw Torrhen going to stand before his father, pleading for him to grant his blessing in asking Nysa for her hand. This man would have become her father and in some way, he already was.

The grief took complete hold of her, igniting the heat from her heart and allowing it to bear its flame. Everyone stopped and turned to look at her then. Her normally cool, blue eyes burned violet. Her screeching turning louder and unbearable as it filled the room. Her arms spread out and her fingers curled until the flame departed her body and grew before them. It stood high in the room, touching the ceiling.

"Gods," a few of them cursed and fell to the floor as the flame took shape.

A spark slithered out, like the head of a snake. The flames formed a large body standing above Nysa and spreading out in the image of wings, covering over the Queen of the North and the Trident. The sparked head, slithered towards Lord Bolton - releasing a roar as Nysa's body slowly lifted off the ground.

She glanced down at the body of Lord Karstark - the father she never had - and released another ear-wrenching screech as the dragon-formed flame charged after Lord Bolton in fury. One of the Frey men pulled Lord Bolton through one of the doors in escape as the dragon paused and roared in frustration before turning loose in the Twins.

The grief consumed Nysa and fed the flame. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her heart constricted in turmoil. Another Karstark dead - another person she held so dear. She was tired of it, tired of seeing people she loved disappear and for what? Her head lifted as she felt the flame move, her muscles reacting and her emotions pouring out.

Nysa's body leaned forward as she sobbed and shouted, the flaming dragon pushing through the halls, leaving burnt scratches on the walls as it roared and clawed its way through.

Ser Perwyn, Olyvar and one of their nephews, who had gathered loyal Frey together and were fighting alongside those from House Bracken and House Blackwood paused as they saw the creature of flames tore down their path.

Those of the North who were fighting outside had stopped as well to look at the creature fly above the twins, roaring in anguish before attacking. Several Frey and Bolton guards were left burning - screaming for mercy. But they found none as the dragon continued its massacre.

"Nysa," Lady Catelyn shouted, pleading up at her. "It's alright," she told the young woman. "Look at me, Nysa," she urged as Nysa's violet eyes turned towards her. "Everything is alright now."

The flaming dragon died at the water's edge as Nysa slumped back. An eerie feeling settled on the Twins as they watched their Queen - who was screaming earlier, controlling flames - looking as though she were about to pass out. Her body swayed slightly and her eyes fluttered open and close.

Lady Catelyn was the first to rush towards her. Smalljon and Harrion were next. Her body shook before she fell to her side, on the ground, Smalljon catching her just in time.

"What is it? Is she okay," Robb hurried to her side.

Lady Catelyn moved to sit beside her, picking up Nysa's head to look at the young woman. "It was too much for her."

"You knew she could do this," Robb stared at his mother before turning back to his wife. "Nysa?"

"I feel like I can't breathe," Nysa answered.

"Nysa," Robb grabbed her from Smalljon's arms and cradled her to his chest.

"Robb," she moved to touch his face, only to have her hand drop down.

She felt so tired now, as though all the life had left her. Nysa felt drained and unable to control her body. She told herself to wake, that it was okay. But she didn't fell okay. Desperately, her arm twitched as she attempted to move but it was of no use. Her body was too weak from the exertion.

Men from the Riverland's and the North poured in then, along with a few Frey guards who were loyal to her and Robb. They looked on as the Queen's eyes closed, her head falling back against the King's hands and her body growing limp.

"Nysa," Robb pleaded for her to respond.

Lady Catelyn lifted her hands from Nysa's dress, showing the blood that was coated there. "The babe," his mother whispered as Robb shook his head.

"No, Gods no! Don't take her," Robb pleaded, pushing his hands over her sweat-covered face. "Nysa," he began to sob as everyone shouted and moved around him to get the Queen some help. "Please, Nysa don't leave me," he begged, holding her tightly.

He couldn't feel her warmth. He couldn't feel the heat. She felt so cold.

No, Robb begged for her eyes to open, caressing her face.

She had to live.

If she didn't, he was sure he wouldn't survive either.

Jory stood by the window, looking out at the water surrounding the Twins. It was such a peaceful morning, one that held such promise for him and his future. He had been uncertain when he heard of his Uncle's death. What about his cousin back in the North? What had become of Beth? Was she spared or among those who were killed by the Ironborn? He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

***Flashback***

"Captain of the Guards, your father would have been proud," Lord Stark slapped him on the shoulder.

"Jory," Nysa rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around his legs, "my brother," she smiled up at him.

"You have a family to protect now, Jory," Lord Stark smiled as Nysa reached on her toes to give her brother a kiss before scurrying away to play with Robb and Jon.

"How do you do it, Lord Stark? How do you care and provide for a family," Jory questioned.

"It is a challenging task, one I remember informing you that you'd have challenges on."

"She's a good girl," Jory nodded towards Nysa. "Still, I worry for her safety, her future."

"That's why you need to find a wife, Jory," Lord Stark turned to him. Jory looked at Lord Stark before realizing that his gaze was on something past Jory's shoulder. He turned to see Lord Stark looking upon Lady Stark as she carried Arya in her arms and Sansa tugged on her dress. "I had to learn to love my wife - something I hope that you never have to go through. That has challenges all its own. But the moment I covered her in a Stark cloak, I took her under my protection - she became my family. I lost my father, brother and sister. But I had gained so much," he gestured towards Robb who was playing before nodding once again to his lady wife. "In a world that is dominated by man, you'll find that it holds little to nothing of importance unless there was a strong and affectionate woman by his side."

"What are you speaking of, Lord husband?"

They both turned to see Lady Catelyn walking towards them. Arya shifted in the lady's arms towards her father and Lord Stark took her gladly. "About family," Lord Stark answered before pressing a chaste kiss to his wife's lips.

Jory turned away - both in memory and in reality - to gaze at the young woman lying bare under the furs. She was his, and he was hers. They were a family now. Though, he'd do anything to avenge his Uncle and cousin. He had gained another family. And just as Lord Stark had, he knew that he would protect her with all costs.

She moaned lightly and turned her head, reaching her hand up on the cushion were his head had rest moments ago.

"Good morning," he said as Marissa's eyes shot open at his voice. She sat up quickly and looked at him. The furs falling around her waist. He took a deep breath as a smile crept across her lips and a blush tinted her cheeks.

"Good morning, husband," she replied before glancing about the room. "Have you been awake long?"

"No," he shook his head. "Would you like to come here and see the sun rise with me?"

Marissa nodded before arching her back, stretching out her stiff muscles. Jory cleared his throat and tried to keep in the groan that threatened to leave him. "You might not want to do that, wife," he growled before he could help himself.

"I'm merely stretching."

"Aye," he nodded, letting his eyes roam her naked form. "But may I remind you that moving in such a way, with nothing on," he added as she looked down quickly at her body, "is arousing me rather quickly."

Marissa blushed again as she pushed back one of the furs and rest on her side. She had heard that some women appear seductive this way and for a moment, she wanted to feel the pleasure she felt last night - and in the middle of the night. "Perhaps I want you aroused," she purred, propping her head up with her hand.

Jory groaned and shifted his stance.

"You did promise you'd take me in the morning."

Jory chuckled. "If I recall correctly, my wife woke me up in the middle of the night because she could not wait until morning," he teased.

The blush on her cheeks made him smile. Gods, she was easy to please and eager to please him in return. Their conversations were not forced or rehearsed. He found that he liked that she would be by his side. The future looked promising. She warmed his heart, made him feel light. Yes, she was his family now.

"You make me happy, Jory," she admitted with a small smile. "I never thought my marriage would be this," she paused, "well this good. I mean I know that we still must go North," Marissa looked down at the bed, "and that there is much to do at Greenhall. And Winter is coming, there are challenges to face, but I like that you'll be by my side through it all. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jory smiled and nodded. "I feel the same, Marissa," he said in a soft tone, making her blush wildly.

"Will you come and join me," her eyes twinkled.

He smiled again before looking away. "Perhaps later. I've worked up quite an appetite. I was hoping you and I could break our fast together first. Are you hungry," he asked, moving from the window and walking towards the bed. "Or perhaps you are in need a bath," he gave her a small smile. "I could call a maid, if you wish."

Just then her eyes grew wide and she looked in panic at the door.

"I too wondered why they had not arrived, yet," Jory chuckled. "I know it is early, but I thought that for sure your grandfather would want to see the sheets," he said as he came to stand in front of her. "Marissa, is everything okay?"

The joy that was present earlier had vanished. It was replaced with a pale expression filled with fear.

"Marissa," Jory asked her again.

"I am so sorry, my lord husband," she began.

Where had the sudden title come from? They had been getting along so well. He thought surely, that they had been on friendly terms.

"I don't know how to explain it."

"Explain what," he questioned, not liking the tears on her face or the fright in her eyes.

Marissa shook her head, gripping the sheets and furs around her, pulling them to her chest. "I can't..."

"Marissa!"

She flinched at the angry and loud tone that came from her husband - the man who had moments ago shared a teasing moment with her, who treated her kindly and gently. All traces of their earlier growing affection seemed to be gone. She should have known that she'd never find a loving husband. Those were just stories that the Queen had told her. He'd raise his fist to her now.

"Marissa," he climbed on top of the bed in a flash and took a hold of her arms in his hand.

"You're hurting me," she cried as his grip tightened on her.

"Why did you apologize earlier? What did you do? Tell me!"

"It's not what I did," Marissa sobbed, looking up into her husband's eyes. "My grandfather betrayed your sister and the King," she said as he quickly released her, jumping off the bed and running towards the door. "They planned to assassinate them during the bedding," she added as he paused at the doorway.

Jory turned to look at her.

She couldn't recognize the man who stood there in his place. It was like the gentle man she had wed was truly gone.

"If anything happened to my sister," he looked her up and down, "you are no family to me."

He turned on his heels and marched out of the room, leaving Marissa sobbing on her bed.