Chapter 32
"She did it again," a woman's frightened voice stated.
"Our ancestors had been known to possess such a gift," a man's voice explained. "There is nothing wrong with her," he continued, "she's our daughter. Ours, you hear me? It's a gift, not a curse."
"What if your father uses her to..."
"I won't allow it."
The child giggled - like any little child would - and buried herself on her parent's bed, patting the feathered cushions as her parents looked back at her. The father smiled as the mother's eyes glistened with sadness. The mother looked away from the child's innocence and wrapped her arms around herself.
"How can you be so sure? I've seen the look in his eyes when she does it, this hunger for her gift."
The child threw the sheets over her head, hiding under them, watching as her father took her mother in his arms lovingly.
"Do not worry about it, wife," he said quietly and reassuringly. "I will protect our daughter. We have the guards as well. They'll die for her. Nothing will happen to our precious princess."
Nysa drifted in her sleep, her eyes fluttering behind closed lids as dream upon dream built on each other. She kept coming back to that one scene. It felt so distant and so desirable - she wanted to hold onto it forever. The love and concern she felt moving between the two people in her dream as they looked at their little daughter, burying herself under the sheets playfully - without a care in the world. Was that her and Robb - a dream of the future? Was that her and Torrhen - a dream that would never happen? Perhaps that was a memory of her father and mother - a dream desired? Or could it have been Lord and Lady Stark - a dream of something past? She could not tell.
Her mouth parted and what felt like heat, filled her lungs and flowed through her body as though it were in her blood. She took in a deep breath, feeling her body being pulled toward the light as the two smiling figures from her dream disappeared.
"Nysa," a voice called to her.
"Mama," she whispered, feeling her body lighten as her eyes blinked open. The light adjusted quickly and she looked to see a woman leaning over her. "Mother," she asked again.
Slowly the figure came into focus - the dark auburn hair and rosy cheeks with that kind smile. It wasn't her mother but it was one of the many who she considered to be so. "There you are," Lady Catelyn smiled down at her, stroking her hair from her face.
There were tears of concern and relief on the older woman. Quickly, Nysa's eyes scanned her face and looked over to see a bandage wrapped around Lady Catelyn's neck - the memories of last night coming back to her.
"Are you well?"
"Am I well," Lady Catelyn choked back what could be between a sob and a laugh as she pressed a kiss to Nysa's forehead. "Dear girl, we were all worried about you. How are you feeling?"
"Tired," she smiled lightly in response before her eyes closed again.
"Do you need some water? Get the Queen some water, Merianne."
"Marissa," Nysa turned towards the voice and reached out her hand.
"Yes, my Queen," Marissa's hand took hold of Nysa's and held it close to her.
"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be," Nysa paused and took a deep breath.
"Save your voice," Marissa instructed as Nysa felt something cool touch her lips.
A few pairs of hands pressed against her back while another cupped around her neck, lifting her body up to a sitting position. Lady Catelyn moved in the back to support her as did Lyra Mormont while Merianne tilted the cup so that she could drink the cool water. It flowed through her as though her body were dry. She gulped greedily, feeling her body being refreshed and a sudden spark deep in the center of her body, twitching and sparking. It was like the water was fueling the fire within her - it was odd and a tad confusing but she continued to drink, asking for another cup which she took to again.
"If you desire more water, we could always throw you in the river, my Queen."
A few giggles filled the room.
"Oh, hush," Nysa scolded, turning her head to see Harrion Karstark waiting for permission to enter the room further.
She wanted to say that she was surprised that he would be here but she knew that Robb must have been handling matters with House Frey and that Jory would be assisting. That could account for Lady Catelyn and Marissa's presence here with her, instead of her husband and brother. Immediately, she sobered and her smile disappeared at seeing the familiar face.
"Bolton," she questioned.
Harrion's face hardened as he approached the bed. "He's gone."
"Gone?"
"I've sent men out to find him - Lord Daryn Hornwood, Robett Glover and Ser Wylis Manderly are among those heading North."
Nysa closed her eyes and thought of Lord Hornwood then, remembered the sight she came upon when seeing him locked in the cells of Harrenhal. With his father's death, Daryn had become Lord of Hornwood. And since he was betrothed to Alys, it would only make sense that he would ride back to hunt down the traitor who murdered her father. And now, just like Daryn, Harrion is Lord because of the death of Lord Karstark.
So many good men, Nysa thought.
"Why to the North," asked Lady Catelyn.
"Because we're certain that that is where he will run, my Lady," Harrion answered.
She turned her attention back to him. "Do you wish to go," Nysa questioned.
Harrion and her stared at one another - both determined. His hand moved and Nysa noticed that it clutched his father's sword. "I intend to see this to the finish, my Queen," he stated. "The Lords know that I want Bolton's head. The King has given me the honor to execute him."
"As he should," Nysa pushed herself up, feeling the anger and grief helping to encourage her determination. "Harrion, you should go back home. If Bolton truly headed North, you must think of your mother, your sister. You're all that they have left."
"Daryn will protect my sister. He is her betrothed. And when I return North to give her away, she will be his wife."
"And what of Karhold," Nysa asked. "What of your mother?"
Harrion sighed and looked down, shaking his head. "The Lord of Karhold and his sons set out to free the Lord of Winterfell, free the North from this Southern hostility. I am Karhold's Lord now. The mission hasn't changed."
"Harrion..."
"There are still the deaths of my brothers to avenge."
"Harrion," Nysa felt a tear slip down her cheek. "Please. I'm begging you. Go home."
"Forgive me, Nysa," his eyes began to water but he shook his head and took a step back. "As I said, I intend to finish what my father started."
Nysa wanted to say more, a part of her wanted to command Harrion to return home. He couldn't stay and continue to fight. She didn't want to allow it. Not after his father's death.
Lady Catelyn could see the argument that was about to start and decided to intervene. "What of the others, my Lord?"
The newest Lord of Karhold turned towards her. "The King is executing the traitors now, my Lady."
"Help me get up," Nysa said, wincing a little at the pain. Her hand immediately went to her stomach and she rubbed the swelling there, joy and relief filling her as she felt her child move. Her head looked over at Lady Catelyn and smiled brightly.
Lady Catelyn nodded and reached out to rest her hand on top of Nysa's. "The babe is resilient - just as it's mother is." She pushed Nysa's shoulder gently. "Despite the good news, I don't think my son would appreciate it if you were to leave this bed at the moment."
"No, I must," Nysa insisted.
Lady Tyta had been the first to react. "It's too dangerous, my Queen."
"You should know all about that," Harrion snapped towards the voice.
Arya - who Nysa didn't know had been in the room - jumped up, standing in front of the Frey woman. "Lady Tyta got me in and out of the hall. I was able to get the direwolves in," Arya stated with her chin held high.
"Regardless of what she did, Princess," Harrion snarled, "the Queen shouldn't have so much Freys surrounding her," he gestured to the women in the room.
Nysa turned pale and looked over to see Lady Joyeuse in the room as well. But the reason for her sudden fright was not due to the fact that there were a few of the Frey women in the room with her. They were about to execute Frey guards - husbands and sons who belonged to the women she befriended these past few weeks. She pushed back the sheets, the furs and also the people who insisted that she stay in bed to rest.
"Get me a robe," she pointed towards the chair as Shirei quickly went to do as she was told. Nysa turned slowly, pushing away the pain - inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. "Thank you, Shirei," she said as the robe was slipped over her shoulders.
"My Queen..."
"Where is Ser Stevron? I want to speak with him," she said. Nysa paused as everyone stood still in the room. She slowly turned and looked back at them. Suddenly a couple of them began to cry and weep. She noticed Roslin and Arwyn were in the room as well - one of them sporting a bleeding lip. "What is that," she lifted her hand towards Arwyn.
"My husband discovered my father's betrayal earlier this morning," Arwyn replied before smiling. "Do not worry, my Queen. I gave him as good as I got."
"Good," Nysa nodded. "I won't tolerate such mistreatment - especially since we are alive because of you three, because of you," Nysa looked towards her good-sister. "And what of my brother? Did he do the same to you?"
Marissa looked down and away from her. "He used his words."
"Well, I am about to have a few words with him myself," Nysa swirled around so quickly that all of them worried about her health. She brushed them off and threw the door open, walking down the hall as Nymeria and Lady quickly appeared at either side of her. Arya, Lyra, Tyta and Harrion followed closely behind. "No one answered my question about Ser Stevron."
"He is dead, your Grace," Tyta answered as Nysa's steps faltered slightly. She gripped her chest before continuing to walk.
"By whose hand?"
"No one is saying," Tyta replied.
"Did anyone see..."
"Dacey went to help him," Lyra answered, "when she saw that he was overwhelmed by his own kin. Unfortunately, she got there too late, my Queen. Ser Perwyn, however, was able to save her before all of the men turned on her."
Nysa paused then and turned to look at Tyta. "I am sorry."
Tyta put on a small smile before shaking her head and looking down. "Perwyn is not the only one who had defend himself against our kin, my Queen."
The young Queen looked down, her hand coming to rest against her stomach before she felt intense grief fill her. Ser Stevron had been her champion in House Frey - her defender, her most loyal knight. He was killed by his son and for what, she thought. All of it was because she and Robb were wed? But she had made things right, set matters straight. She remembered Ser Stevron coming to her side, ready to fight and die for her. And he did. Lord Karstark had died for her. Lord Bolton had killed him. Lord Bolton and Lord Frey had orchestrated this. She rubbed her stomach again - orchestrated to kill her and her child.
"Harrion," she called for him as he stepped forward. "Bring forth my sword."
Sansa Stark was holding a gown - the gown Tyrion could only assume would be her wedding gown. She smiled and touched the fabric. He was right when he told Shae that he would have had to been blind to not notice how pretty Sansa was. Shae.
Tyrion shook his head and took a deep breath before entering the room where Sansa sat with Margery Tyrell and a few of her ladies.
"Ladies," Tyrion cleared his throat.
"My Lord Tyrion," Margery Tyrell stood and curtsied, followed by the others, including his intended bride.
She held a polite smile, her demeanor being modest and courteous. She didn't fit amidst the scheming Tyrell maiden. However, Tyrion ignored that briefly and would speak to Sansa about that later. He didn't want to presume to order her about. But there was something odd about their relationship.
"Forgive me for intruding upon your privacy, but I would like a word with my future bride," Tyrion requested.
Margery took Sansa's hand in hers and leaned forward to kiss the younger woman on the cheek. "But of course you may have Sansa," she turned to Tyrion, "only for a quick moment. We were just about to do the final fitting for her wedding gown."
Tyrion bowed his head and turned to the side, waiting for Sansa to depart from the room first. He followed behind her until they were down the hall. It was then that he noticed, she paused in her pace, allowing him to catch up. He nodded in appreciation before holding up his hand, urging her to continue on.
"May I say that you look very pretty today, my Lady. Is that a new gown you are wearing?"
She smiled. "No."
"Oh," he lifted an eyebrow and studied her from the side. "Something is different."
"My hair."
Tyrion paused, causing Sansa to stop as well. She looked to him as he searched her form before his eyes landed on the top of her head. "You chose not to braid it, today?"
Sansa's lips twitched slightly before she nodded. "My mother would often leave her hair like this," she moved a strand to play with the ends.
Tyrion finding himself entranced by the movement, reached out his hands and did the same. They were soft - softer than he expected it to be. He hated that his mind immediately went to compare Sansa and Shae. Fiddling with the ends of the hair he found a small sense of peace and contentment - something small that was missing with Shae - before glancing up at her. A shocked expression was on her brow. The action was probably too familiar, but he found that he did not care. He enjoyed it - touching a maiden's hair that had never tangled in another's hands. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the thoughts that had crept in before taking a step back.
"Forgive me," he glanced down the hall. "You should never doubt your beauty, Lady Sansa."
"Thank you, my Lord."
He bowed his head and then held up his hand so they could continue walking.
"You wished to speak with me on something important?"
"Yes," Tyrion answered.
"We are still to wed tomorrow, my Lord?"
He chuckled. "Yes, we are. I'm afraid there's no getting out of that. My father just informed me that there was another wedding. Your mother's brother, Edmure Tully became heir to Riverrun. Your grandfather, Lord Tully, has passed."
Sansa nodded as she had heard the news a while back. She hardly knew the man. She had never left the North until recently. And on their journey South, King Robert hadn't stopped there.
Tyrion noted that she hadn't claimed outright that her mother, brother or other kin were 'traitors'. He smiled internally and thought that that was a grand start. "He is to wed someone from House Frey. The wedding is probably taking place as we speak."
"Of course," Sansa nodded, not sure if she was displeased with missing the event or with news of another young maiden wedding someone from a great House.
"And so that brings us to our current predicament."
"Do not speak ill of our wedding," Sansa glanced at him before looking ahead.
"I'm not, my Lady. It's to be a grand event - regardless of whom the groom is. However, I know that this is not particularly something you'd be anticipating."
"You are too cruel, my Lord. I like to think about the marriage that is to follow after," she commented. "The wedding will always be dictated by the crown. But our marriage," she shook her head. "Are you here because your father has given you an answer?"
Tyrion gestured for her to enter into one of the many gardens in Kings Landing. They found a bench where she could sit. She glanced down the walkway and noticed that Lord Tyrion's squire and another man - a guard most likely - were following at a modest distant. She blushed slightly before turning towards Lord Tyrion who stood in front of her.
"I fear something terrible is going to happen, my Lady," he said in a grave tone. "My father seems to think that our child could become heir to the North."
Judging from Sansa's startled expression, Tyrion knew she had not heard of it nor did she quite understand the situation at hand.
"With your brother at war, there's always a chance for him to die," Tyrion explained. "There is no news of your other brothers. I'm sure you know that the Ironborn have burned Winterfell." She nodded. "And your younger sister is traveling with your brother and mother. Which means that you are the only..."
"The only Stark left," Sansa finished with a flicker of recognition. "Your father wants to wait until Robb's army is attacked before naming an heir." Her eyes narrowed at him. "He'd want your child to be named heir of Winterfell, is that it?"
Tyrion could see her anger growing. In a way it made him feel better about himself. She was learning to speak her mind, express her feelings - and all of that was in front of him. It was like she had come to trust him. He smiled and reached forward to take her hands in his.
"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," Sansa replied.
"And there will be," he responded softly, glancing up at her. "However, I will ask my father if perhaps you and I could still move to Casterly Rock. I could be relieved of my duty on the small council," he shrugged, "which is something that I do not particularly enjoy. But it will get you out of Kings Landing," he added in a whisper as she straightened. Yes, he thought, the idea of leaving the Capital sounded pleasing to her. "Would that make you feel better, my Lady?"
"Aye," Sansa nodded. "It would."
Every person was quiet as Nysa walked out into the yard. Robb went to stop her but she immediately took his hand in hers and gave him a brief smile.
"I am alright, Robb," she answered before looking at the Frey men who were about to be hanged. "Release them," she repeated.
Robb didn't like it. He wanted to take Nysa back inside to their rooms and lock her up, keep her safe. There were still too many Frey men present - though they swore their allegiance to Robb, he knew they could turn on an instant - especially with the execution of so many kin. Reluctantly, Robb nodded towards Greatjon who cursed and ordered his men to release the Frey men.
Slowly, one by one they came to stand in front of Nysa and Robb. Nysa let go of his hand and walked towards them. Her steps and movements were slow but she could feel herself drawing strength from the fire burning in the yard. Bran was right - she could do so much more with her gift. She smiled as she came to stand in front of Black Walder. He narrowed his eyes at her before spitting on the ground beside her feet in disgust.
Smalljon, Harrion and two others drew their swords but Nysa quickly put up her hand to stop them.
"My Lords and Ladies, knights and maidens who are present," she announced loudly. "I found out that Ser Stevron is dead. You do not know how much of you owe your lives to him on this day," she smiled and looked about the yard. "He taught me that there was strength and power in House Frey, that every man had his worth," she continued as she turned slowly away from Black Walder to look at his father. "I came to respect Ser Stevron. He served as one of my personal guards for some time, even gave me advice and counsel on being a Queen - your Queen," she shouted the last part as silence filled the yard. "And because I came to admire such a respectful knight, I feel that I will respect his son," she nodded towards Ser Ryman, "and his grandsons," she nodded towards Black Walder.
She gestured to have all of the Frey men who had been set to hang for their treason to be set free. A few of them muttered in confusion while the others cheered, thanking her for her graciousness.
Nysa held up her hand and silenced them. Robb noticed then that Arya had come out behind him. Growling softly in the shadows were Nymeria and Lady.
"Unfortunately, I remember telling you, Lord Frey," she looked up to where they had sat him, "that if you released us, that I would spare your lives."
"My Queen..."
"You laughed at me," she smiled before breaking out into a small laugh as well, "you all laughed at me. I said if you apologized that I'd overlook this transgression," she said turning towards Lord Frey. He remained silent. "Nothing to say?" She smiled again as he held his head high. "Arya," she instructed.
"Nymeria," Arya commanded as the wolves flew past Robb - Grey Wind included - and began to attack the Frey men who were there.
"Mercy, my Queen," Lord Frey shouted as the screams of his sons and grandsons filled the air.
"They killed their own kin," Nysa smiled as Lady took down one of Lord Frey's sons.
"Forgive me!"
"Did you instruct your sons to kill Ser Stevron knowing that he was fiercely loyal to the King and I," Nysa questioned, looking on as Nymeria chased down the men, snapping at their limbs. "Your heir and first-born son, Lord Frey," she said. "I remember Lady Catelyn begging for you to spare her first-born son, asking you to allow Robb to leave. Did you enjoy her screams," she looked at Lord Frey.
"Mercy, please my Queen!"
"Well, I enjoy yours," she smiled before conjuring up a flame from her hand. She nodded to Arya.
"Nymeria," Arya called and the wolf released Black Walder's leg as he crawled on the ground.
"Lothar Frey and Ser Whalen Frey," she looked at the two men - on the ground, barely breathing. "I am told that the two of you attacked your sister, Lady Tyta, as she fought to defend me and the Princess Arya. I would say that she deserves her justice, but I will not leave that task to her." Nysa lifted her hand and smiled as the flames shot out and consumed the two men. "Just to let you know Ser Whalen, Prince Bran Stark is still alive," she said loudly as many of those in attendance murmured and whispered. "I had planned that he would chose either Shirei, Alyx or maybe even your daughter Merianne as his bride. Now," she lifted her hand and watched in delight as the fire burned bright and high. "You'll never know if your daughter becomes a Princess."
"It was I, my Queen," one of the Frey men shouted, rolling on the ground from his wounds due to Lady.
Nysa's head turned towards him as shocked whispers filled the crowd.
"I killed my father," Ser Ryman Frey raised his bloodied hand.
Harrion walked up to Nysa, presenting her with Maiden's Mercy.
"Let my sons and my brothers live," Ser Ryman added, "I beg of you."
With her right hand she twisted a ball of fire and pushed it into the yard, burning the rest of the Freys slowly as they screamed.
"You wanted my mercy, Lord Frey," Nysa asked Lord Frey before lifting the sword in her two hands. "Then you shall have it," she stood over Ser Ryman and plunged the sword into the back of his head.
Jory walked down the hallway towards his and Marissa's room only to find a few of the young women moving Marissa's things out. He paused in front of them, his mere presence demanding their attention. He noted that one of them curtsied and apologized quickly for the delay.
"Delay?"
"Yes," the girl faltered, before glancing inside. "We were told that you would want your wife's things moved out of your room immediately, my Lord."
"I don't remember..."
"Forgive me, my Lord husband." Jory turned around to see Marissa standing there. Marissa gestured for the girl to go back in and the older woman - whom Jory was certain was her mother - had gone into the room as well. "I thought that I spare you the humiliation and move my things out of your way."
She looked defeated and nothing like the daring and bright young woman he had wed the day before.
He didn't have that much memories of his mother - but he knew that his father had taken care of his wife, knew that she never left his side. The same could be said of his Uncle and especially about Lord Stark. 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. Marissa was his wife now, not something to cast aside so quickly. He thought of Nysa's sadness at seeing the King with another. How quickly she believed - that they all believed - she had been cast aside.
"I pray that you are pleased with your Queen's choice," was the first thing she had asked him when she came to stand by his side.
"I always did trust my Queen," was his reply as he lifted her hand to his mouth.
"I trust my Queen as well," she answered with a smile.
This young woman had become his wife, his family. He covered her in his House's cloak - though small and granted a castle at the Queen's request - he agreed to take Marissa in as his family. He had lost his father and had taken in Nysa. He had lost his Uncle now and had taken in a wife. Marissa had trusted Nysa's decision that he - her new husband whom she had never met - would take care of her.
It is to become my home now. I should dearly want to know more about it.
You put my mind at ease though, husband. You made me feel safe.
You make me happy, Jory.
I like that you'll be by my side through it all. I don't know what I'd do without you.
Jory had smiled because he agreed with her. I feel the same, Marissa.
Marissa stepped forward then, bringing his thoughts to the present. "I will be at the other end of the hall, Lord husband, if you want to take your pleasure," she said before turning around. It was like he had been slapped in the face.
Would you rather I just lay back then, husband?
"No," Jory shouted, reaching out to grab her arms and pulling her back against him.
Her face showed a small flicker of fear before she lifted her chin. "Or would you prefer to take your pleasure from me now?"
"What? No," he shook his head.
"Perhaps you'd no longer like to share my bed," she said - and just like before, he saw a glimpse of feeling, a feeling of sadness. This time it was a brief passing of sadness and hurt before her face hardened again. "Not that I need to know. You have the right to do as you please, my Lord."
It was like all feeling and life had drained from her. She didn't look like the young woman he had wed the night before. Instead, she was submissive, beaten, down-trodden and depressed.
"I don't want that."
Marissa took a deep breath. "Then what does my Lord husband want," she asked quietly. "I am here to please..."
"I want my wife back," Jory interrupted. "I want the woman I wed last night, the one who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to tell me. I want the woman who was willing to share in the pleasures of our bedding, who was excited to share in creating a home, building a life."
Marissa's eyes started to water at Jory's declaration. She looked at him, staring into his eyes - praying that everything he said was true. She had allowed herself to hope last night that the Queen was right - her brother would treat her kindly. But thinking back to this morning, she couldn't stand the look of betrayal and hurt on his face when she told him about her grandfather's plans.
"I don't want a wife who feels that she has to live on the other end of the castle from me," Jory added. Now, it looked as though there was regret and sincerity in Jory's eyes - regret for saying the things he said this morning. "Certainly not this mousy little Frey who bows her head and hides behind false pretenses!"
She stumbled a bit, gripping onto his arms as he held her closer.
"I want Marissa Cassel."
Marissa felt her heart pounding in her chest. A bright feeling flowing through her causing her to smile, the tears on her face tasting salty as they fell earnestly.
"I was such a fool, Marissa," Jory said as he reached up to wipe the tears. "Forgive me for... Gods, forgive me for everything," he said with a smile as they both shared a small laugh.
"Forgive me as well," Marissa replied. "I had this nagging thought that you'd turn on me. I was expecting the abuse and..."
Jory changed his tight hold on her to a loving embrace, burying his head into the crook of her neck. "You'll never have to, not from me. I promise you, Marissa."
She choked back something between a laugh and a sob, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling me closer than she thought possible. He had never thought that love was something he would have to learn. He always believed that he would choose a wife that he loved - something that he had taught to Nysa, something they had spoke about on a number of occasions. But as he held his young wife close, he thought that this learning to love business wasn't so bad after all.
He moved to look down at her, her eyes gazing longingly up at him. "If you are moving your things, then they should be prepared to move mine as well - however little they are," Jory instructed. "For I am not to part from you, my wife."
Marissa sniffed as Jory reached up to hold her face in his palm. She closed her eyes and turned into his warmth.
In the shadows, Marissa's mother prayed that at least one of her daughters would find happiness in their marriages. And from the looks of things, her youngest daughter appeared to be on the right course.
"So much for guest right," Greatjon commented as the rest of House Frey entered the hall.
"Traitors," Smalljon and a few others shouted.
Robb and Nysa took a seat at Lord Frey's high table. There were very few men left from House Frey now, especially after this morning. Nysa looked far too comfortable for someone who performed an execution. She leaned back in her chair, legs crossed with both of her arms resting on the side of the chair. Robb would talk about her performance in the yard later. Surely, she was mourning or in pain - perhaps both.
"Lady Walda Frey," Robb looked at the young girl. Her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all dead. "You are the heiress of the Twins, it would seem," he began as the young girl nodded and looked down shyly. "Your great-great-grandfather," Robb closed her eyes, "has been imprisoned and likely to be executed for his treason against the King and Queen. You will become the Lady of the Crossing. Your cousin, Perra," Nysa looked over to see older Lady Mylenda clutching her daughter close to her. "will be the next in line to inherit. That is of course until you wed and have children," he nodded as young Walda's head bobbed in acknowledgement. "Is that what you desire, my Queen?"
Robb turned to look at Nysa and she nodded in response.
"I see no need to tear this castle away from House Frey," Nysa answered. "Out of admiration for Ser Stevron and respect for Ser Jared, Ser Danwell, Ser Perwyn, Lady Tyta and the many others who have stood by the King and I, this castle, this home should remain in the hands of House Frey. It has been for many years and will continue to be. That is unless, you give me reason not to."
It was a huge responsibility to put on a young girl's shoulders. She was only a year younger than Arya. However, both Robb and Nysa knew that young girl understood what was happening.
Walda took out a sword - the one that belonged to Ser Stevron - and knelt in front of Robb and Nysa. "I pledge House Frey's fealty to it's King and Queen. House Frey will continue to serve House Stark. Now and always," Walda finished as she smiled.
The words weren't the same but they were enough and Robb nodded in appreciation.
Cheers and claps filled the hall as Walda returned towards her mother. Nysa gestured for a few others to step forward. Most of them had lost husbands and fathers early this morning. There was talk that the Queen's mercy would be shown to them also. Visibly afraid that they'd catch on fire - as they heard what had happened - many fell to their knees, begging for their lives. Robb lifted his hand and quieted them.
"Certainly, none of you played a part in this affair," Robb said as they denied their involvement. "My Queen assures me that you all will be given mercy - considering that it was Lady Tyta and Lady Marissa who warned my wife and assisted my sister in getting help."
"We have a merciful Queen," one of them stated as the others agreed.
Robb held up his hand to stop their talk.
Slowly, Lady Mariya went to stand up in the middle of the gathered women. "What is to become of us? For many of us, our husbands are no longer alive. For some," she gestured to a few of the young girls, "they have no fathers."
"You are the mother of my good-sister, Lady Mariya," Nysa responded, "if you wish to come North and be with your daughter, you may. You do have a daughter wed to Lord Bolton and currently she is Lady of the Dreafort. Once the King and I receive her fealty - she'll be granted mercy. I know it is not her fault to be the wife of such a man. If you desire to go to the Dreadfort after that, then you may."
"You'd allow House Bolton to keep the Dreadfort, my Queen," someone shouted as the Lords and guards of the North protested.
Robb held up his hand to silence them and looked towards Nysa. "I'm sure that the mercy shown here will be shown at the Dreadfort. Lord Karstark will have the honor of executing Lord Bolton," he nodded towards Harrion Karstark, "that much is certain. However, that castle should continue to provide for its Lady. Your other daughter, Lady Mariya," Robb glanced at her, "will be spared. But I assure you that her husband is as good as dead the moment he held a knife to my mother's throat and murdered Lord Karstark."
"Traitor," shouts rang out in the hall as once again Robb quieted down the men.
"We are sorry for your loss, Lady Mariya. Truly, we are," Nysa said. "But your husband attacked the Greatjon and he paid the price for his actions. I understand you are the Aunt to young Lord Lyman Darry. That is another option for you as well. If you wish to return to the home of your father..."
"I will go North with Marissa, my Queen," Lady Mariya curtsied. "Thank you, my Queen."
Nysa nodded as another woman stood. "Lady Jyanna," she acknowledged as the woman curtsied. "I am sorry for your loss as well."
"What of me and my two children," she questioned with tears in her eyes. "I just birthed a son."
Lady Roslin stepped forward before anyone could reply. "You were wed to my brother, Jyanna," Roslin answered. "I will take care of you and your children."
"Thank you, Lady Tully," Nysa answered, glancing quickly at Edmure who was sitting on the opposite end of Robb, instead of standing with his wife. "And may I remind those who recently wed - Lord Edmure, Ser Patrek and Lord Jory," she glanced at her brother, "that I will say this once and only once. Roslin Frey, forgive me Roslin Tully is not the enemy. Arwyn Mallister is not the enemy. Marissa Cassel is not the enemy!"
Edmure simply nodded in understanding. Nysa didn't like the brush off.
"She is your family."
"I know that," Edmure replied, glancing at Roslin. "I know that I wrapped her in my cloak, took her under my care and made her my wife."
The way he spoke told Nysa that he had a lot of time to think on the matter.
"Roslin explained to me what happened this morning," he said as shocked whispers filled the hall. "She believed that I would listen to her and treat her honorably. And she believed that because of our Queen," Edmure kept looking at Nysa. "Am I frustrated about being deceived? Yes," he added. "But I will not take that out on my wife. Last night Roslin became my family. Arwyn became a Mallister, Marissa became a Cassel - your sister by law. They are not the enemies, not after they come under our care."
Edmure went to stand slowly and looked around the room. Nysa saw it then - Edmure had become Lord of Riverrun, not just by his father's passing but by learning things about 'Family, Duty, and Honor'. And he had done that all on his own.
"Roslin was merely a pawn, used by her father. If not for her, Arywn or Marissa none of us would be alive. The King, the Queen, the child that grows in her, the Lords around this table, or even my sister," Edmure looked over at Catelyn. "Yes, she knew of his plans, of Lord Bolton's plans. Lady Marissa made us aware of it before it became too late. We were able to save ourselves because of her, because of Roslin, because of Arwyn."
He walked towards Nysa.
"And if being around you has taught me anything, it's that none of this would be possible without the women who are our wives, who bear our children," Edmure said for her ears only, bowing his head towards Nysa. "I hope that you accept my apology, my Queen. And I want to express my appreciation also, for choosing a fine Lady for me and for Riverrun."
Something had passed between the two of them just then - Robb could only think of labeling it as 'respect and trust'. It wasn't the type of respect they held as being kin, relations through marriage. No, Robb concluded. It was the type of respect that you would give the Lord of a great House and in return the Queen of a Kingdom. As if sensing it, his mother reached over and took Robb's hand in his.
Robb looked at his mother and nodded.
Nysa curtsied before Edmure as he rose. "I think we're going to learn a lot from one another," she paused and smiled as she came to stand, "Lord Tully."
"There is truth behind your words, my Queen. You have House Tully's loyalty and support," Edmure smiled at the young Queen before turning away from her. "All of you listen to me," he looked to the remaining Lords around the table and in the room. "I think we need to seriously discern who is for our King and who is not. I know what you all may think of your King and his choices. I know that you all think he has lost the North and broke his promise to the Riverlands. Is that why he had two Lords so ready to betray him," he glanced around, "so ready to conspire to murder his Queen and their child? Is that how you all feel?"
Everyone remained silent until one of the Northern Lords cleared their throat. Nysa couldn't believe what she was witnessing - Edmure was coming to her and Robb's defense. It appeared that she had a lot more to learn than she thought.
"I would never betray House Stark," Greatjon stepped forward. "Robb Stark is our King."
"And his wife is our Queen," Lord Glover shouted as the others followed.
"It didn't stop Lord Bolton or Lord Frey, did it," Edmure questioned.
"I understand we have families back home," Nysa glanced at Harrion. "My Uncle lost his life. Lord Stark lost his life. There are guards from Winterfell, guards from all over the North who lost their lives. Fathers, sons, brothers," she added. "But if we fight amongst ourselves, all of their deaths will be for naught."
She came to stand in front of Robb and held out her hand. He stood from his seat, took it and comfortingly squeezed their locked hands, offering her a smile of encouragement before she looked back at those who were gathered in the hall.
"You chose Robb to be your King. And he chose me to be your Queen. I am doing all that I can to gain that back. Your King wants it back. Jon is fighting to gain that back. We will get back home, we will protect our families," Nysa announced.
"Determining who is loyal to you is one thing, my Queen," Lord Blackwood stepped forward. "But House Frey murdered one of my sons. We shouldn't let them go unpunished. They need to prove their loyalty," he pointed to House Frey, "not us."
The crowd in the room cheered in agreement. Some of them - like Lord Blackwood - held a lot of hatred and disgust in his eyes. Along with the shouts, cries began to fill the room. That is when she turned towards the faces in front of her - the faces awaiting judgement. She saw children - scared and frightened - clinging to their mothers or older siblings. They were on their knees, begging her for mercy. In her eyes, House Frey had already been punished.
Releasing Robb's hand, Nysa walked down towards the women who were gathered.
"A lot of them already have," Nysa responded.
"My Queen..."
Nysa held up her hand to silence the Lord. "I slighted their House. They had every right to be upset with me. But I was welcomed with open arms by these women." She gestured for Lady Joyeuse to stand. "Lady Joyeuse bravely stood up to her husband. Lady Marissa whispered the plan to me before she was taken away. They were fiercely loyal to me, where two of the King's Lords had blatantly betrayed me. So, these women deserve a place of honor among our castles," she looked back at Edmure.
Edmure smiled and nodded. "Lady Jyanna Frey, I believe my wife has spoken. You will come with me and your good-sister, Lady Tully. Riverrun will help to take care of you and your children."
A small gasp left the woman's mouth before she covered it with her hand and pulled her children towards her. She curtsied in front of Edmure before Roslin beckoned her over. They embraced one another - the women and her children - as her tears of relief poured out from her face.
Nysa nodded slightly at Roslin before turning back towards the group of women.
"Lady Sallei, you are allowed to take your children and return to the home of your father, House Paege."
The woman nodded gratefully, bringing her sons towards her. Nysa noticed two of them - the twins - look at her with fear in their eyes before they wiped away their tears and bowed their heads. Nysa knelt before them as best as she could - Harrion coming to her side to assist her.
"Your father was a good man. He listened to Lord Frey and wanted to protect his House. And nothing is wrong with that. He just made a bad decision." She nodded to them as they nodded back. "You are not to blame. You all listen to your mother, okay?" They nodded again before scampering off to hide in their mother's skirts.
Harrion held out his arm and pulled her up to stand as gently as he could. Nysa thanked him before turning her attention back towards the rest of the group.
"Lady Sylwa, like Lady Mariya, I offer you the choice to come North with your daughter, you and your son," she glanced at young Hoster who bowed his head.
"Thank you, my Queen," Lady Sylwa answered.
Young Hoster took to his knee. "I would like to serve in your personal guard, my Queen."
A few chuckles were heard throughout the hall. Nysa put out her hand, requesting that Hoster stand. "Hoster, I don't think..."
He stood and gave her a determined look. "My sister is to serve you, my Queen. I would like to do the same."
Before she could answer, it was Robb who stood and acknowledged the young boy. "I have no doubt that you are eager and willing to defend our Queen, Hoster Frey. But perhaps you could go instead to Greenhall and train under Lord Jory Cassel and his guards. And when your training is complete, then you can become a guard at Winterfell and serve the Queen."
Hoster lifted his head in pride and nodded. "Thank you, your Grace."
Both Nysa and Robb nodded their heads to him as he left with his mother.
"Lady Leonella," Nysa turned her attention to Lother Frey's wife. Their were some from the North who said that she should receive punishment since it was her husband who had assisted with the plans of betrayal. She held her head high as the Queen drew close. Nysa could see the slight fear in them though. "What is it that you wish to do? I understand you grew up in Golden Tooth. You must know that there is nothing for you to return to."
"She's from the Westerlands," someone shouted.
"We can't trust her!"
Lady Leonella ignored the taunts and replied to Nysa. "All I ask is that you show me and my daughters mercy, my Queen. Remember that two of my daughters adore you. They love you, my Queen," she said between tears and sobs. Walda and Emberlei clung to their mother's skirts as Tysane held their youngest sister in her arms.
"I could offer you to come North with us."
There were murmurs.
"The North is harsh, my Lady," Nysa said. "I understand you do not wish to stay here at the Twins. There is only that other option for you, which is to go, if that is what you desire. But life there will not be easy, not with Winter so fast approaching."
However, Lady Leonella did exactly that. She promised to go to the North and serve the Queen. She would either go to the Dreadfort or Greenhall to enter into her niece's care and protection to serve them once they became with child. She held no desire to live in the Twins.
One of the widows from the other Frey men had requested to wed one of her dead husband's cousins - apparently they had an understanding. A few others were allowed to stay in the Twins under the protection of Lady Walda Frey and the few Frey men who would stay here.
Ser Perwyn stepped forward then and took out his sword. "I know it has not been said out loud, but I would like to say it now that the mercy shown to us, shown to House Frey is because of our Queen."
"To the Queen," one of the Frey knights stated as the others shouted in agreement.
"Our father," Ser Perwyn began. "You gave House Frey four marriages at his request. And there is promise of more," he glanced at his youngest sister. "A promise that I know our Queen will keep. I do not know why Lord Bolton concocted this plan, why my father agreed to it," Perwyn stated. "But what I do know is that this morning, our King and Queen could have taken all of House Frey. It was within their right," he shouted, looking at his brothers who remained. "We are the ones who broke faith with them, too."
"I agree with Perwyn," Ser Danwell stepped forward. "Our father broke the guest right. Had us killing those from the other Riverland Houses - some of them, our own kin. He made an agreement with you, my Queen. It was you and Princess Arya that Harrenhal belongs to and yet you gave that to us, gave that to my son," he gestured towards Oswell. "He called you and the King traitors to House Frey. But House Frey is the one who broke faith with our King, too. And to own the truth," he chuckled. "I don't know of any woman who could do what our Queen has done and will continue to do for us."
"You spared our lives, our House," Ser Perwyn nodded towards her, pointed his sword on the ground and bent his knee.
"I agree with Perwyn," Ser Jared did the same.
"As do I," another Frey repeated.
"You are right, my Queen. We choose Robb Stark as our King. And now we choose you. To the Queen, our Queen," Ser Perwyn said. "The Queen of the Trident."
"Queen of the Trident," someone shouted.
Lord Blackwood stepped forward and mimicked Ser Perwyn's actions. "Queen of the Trident."
The Blackfish pulled out his sword and did the same as Lord BLackwood. "Queen of the Trident."
Nysa felt Robb take her hand in his. She looked over and he smiled reassuringly at her.
"To the Queen of the North and the Trident," Harrion shouted as the Northern Lords joined in.