His tent was dark when he woke. Robb could not see the chests at the foot of the bed, the small table that sat at the far end, or Alysanne who lay right next to him. He felt for her next to him, but his hand only found cold furs. No wonder I could not see her.
"Alys?" he called into the darkness. There was no reply. He squinted and looked around the room, but could only make out dark shapes.
A sliver of light caught his eye. Candlelight spilled through the tent flaps that separated what served as his private chambers from the outer room where he held council meetings. He sat up and felt around for his discarded trousers. There should be no light coming from there.
He carefully made his way towards the light and pushed the flaps aside. There she is. She stood over the map that had been left out from that evening's meeting. Her dressing gown was drawn tight around her shoulders. Her golden hair fell in loose waves. She had not heard him pull the flaps of the tent aside, and remained fixated on the map in front of her.
"Alys," he called softly. She spun at her name. Her eyes danced and her hair glowed in the candlelight. He once again found himself struck. Thank the gods Theon and Jon aren't here to tease me for it.
He approached her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on top of hers. "It's late. What troubles you?"
Alysanne leaned back into him and resumed her focus on the map. She removed a Lion's head marker from Casterly Rock and grasped it tight in her fingers. "You know what troubles me," she answered.
Robb hummed and kissed the crown of her head. "I wish you would not let it trouble you so."
"How can I not?" She pulled away from him. "Lord Karstark would not suggest such a thing if others did not agree with him." She returned her attention to the map in front of her.
Robb frowned. He wished Lord Karstark would have had the decency to bring his concerns to him in private, if only to spare Alysanne the insult. But he instead voiced his concerns at their meeting earlier that day. "Perhaps you should watch her correspondence, my lord," he gestured to Alysanne. "She speaks too kindly of her Lannister kin."
Alysanne's face had reddened. Robb had been ready to allow Grey Wind an early dinner. Instead he said, "to question my wife's loyalty is to question my own," and swiftly rerouted the topic of conversation. Lord Karstark did not broach the subject again, but Robb feared it would not be the last time he heard Alysanne's loyalties questioned.
If only he heard how she spoke of them in private. But she would never speak those thoughts aloud. Two decades of courtesies ran deep, and in truth, she did not hate all of the Lannisters. She worries for Tommen and Myrcella, as well as her Uncle Tyrion and long missing Uncle Gerion. That did not make her a traitor in Robb's eyes, nor did he question her loyalty for it.
"It matters not what Lord Karstark thinks. I trust you, and the rest of them will learn to in time. Just as they came to trust my mother."
Alys exhaled sharply. "It matters much more than you seem to think. We may not have the time to wait for them to learn to trust me." She faced him once more. "Most of them would be much happier to place one of their own daughters in your bed, in my place."
He gripped her around her waist and pulled her to him once more. "They can very well try," he brushed his nose against hers. "Grey Wind would make easy work of them."
She huffed through her nose and shoved him lightly, but he caught her hand in his. "You are a fool," she chided him half-heartedly.
He grinned at her. "Come to bed, it's late. We have a long march."
She discarded the lion's head marker somewhere in the Reach and followed after him.
The march proved to be as long and boring as the rest of them. He invited Lord Howland Reed to ride by his side that day and was excited when he agreed. Robb grew up on stories of him and his father, of their time in the rebellion, from breaking the siege at Storm's End to how he saved his father from Ser Arthur Dayne. He found himself the slightest bit disappointed when Lord Reed remained quiet most of their journey. He only spoke when questioned directly, and soon Robb grew tired of carrying the conversation.
Robb lost himself in his thoughts for most of that ride. A dangerous thing, considering the circumstances. He did his best to direct himself away from thoughts of his father. His father, who at that very moment could be rotting in the black cells under the Red Keep. Robb shuddered at the thought. He'd read about the black cells. Robb could think of few people who deserved it less than his father. He tried not to think of Sansa, left to the mercy of Joffrey and the Queen, or Arya and Bran, of whom they'd heard no word. Perhaps they escaped, and that's why Sansa made no mention. He felt guilty at thinking such a thought, for it meant Sansa would be alone. That, in turn, made him feel more guilt, for he wanted none of his siblings to be stuck there.
He worried for the brother he left back home. Rickon, who remained in Winterfell with Maester Luwin and Osha the wildling. It had been his hope that his mother would return north to guide him, but she insisted on being there when his father was freed. At least Ser Rodrik is returning. His mother sent him on his way at White Harbor, rather than have him follow her. Rickon was fond of Ser Rodrik. Robb hoped it would cheer him to have a familiar face return.
The monotony of the march was broken by two of their outriders returning, Theon among them. "There's men approaching," Theon said.
His stomach lurched. Robb raised a fist and called a halt. "How many?"
"Around a hundred men," Theon said. Robb's concern lessened. One hundred is nothing against my twenty thousand.
His mother rode to the front. "Why did you call a halt?"
He greeted her. "Men approaching." He gave his attention to Theon once more. "Do they display banners?"
The man next to Theon answered, though Robb could not remember his name. Alysanne would know. "A black fish, on red and blue."
His mother laughed. Robb shot her a confused glance. "That's my uncle. Could you not tell by the Blackfish?"
He did not know much about the Blackfish, save for the stories he had heard of his valor in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. His mother had shared stories as well, but those were long in the past. He did know, however, that Ser Brynden served as the Knight of the Gate for his aunt Lysa in the Vale.
He greeted his great uncle briefly, but there was no time to truly talk to him. He joined the line and they continued. It wasn't until camp was raised that night that he truly had a chance to speak with him.
His mother and great-uncle awaited in her tent. He paused before entering and sent Olyvar to fetch Alysanne. Olyvar ran off to find her with a swift, "Yes my lord." Robb shook his head. A day of riding had not lessened the boys' nerves around him. His mother and the Blackfish were well into their conversation by the time he joined.
"Did Lysa send you?" his mother asked as Robb entered.
Ser Brynden's face soured. "No. She refused to send any aid at all."
"She refused?" Robb could not imagine refusing any of his brothers or sisters aid. And his mother always spoke so highly of his aunt and their time together at Riverrun. Why would she refuse?
"She refused. She says she does not want to draw the wrath of the Lannisters onto her home, to her son." Ser Brynden spit on the ground. "So I resigned my post, and I started north. Figured it wouldn't be hard to miss a host of twenty thousand men."
"I thank you, Uncle Brynden," Robb said. His uncle appraised him and nodded.
His mother drew her eyebrows together. "Perhaps if I go, if I plead with her in person,"
Ser Brynden shook his head. "She is not the same girl you remember, Cat. It would only be a waste of time."
Alysanne entered before his mother could reply. She stood at the entrance and waited for Robb to introduce her.
Robb waved her forward. "Uncle Brynden, I don't believe you've met my lady wife. This is Alysanne," he introduced proudly.
"My lady, it is an honor to meet you," he said. Alysanne inclined her head and gave a small curtsey. He gave her a slight bow, and she rose to join them around the map.
"I bring other news as well. Before I left the Bloody Gate, I received word from Edmure. Jaime Lannister made his move against Riverrun," Ser Brynden said.
Alys tensed, but said nothing. "And?" Robb prompted. He clasped her hand in his beneath the table and she glanced at him.
"Edmure was able to deflect him. For now." He pointed to Riverrun on the map and slid his finger east towards Stone Hedge. "He fled east. Edmure believes he'll try to regroup there." He began to laugh, a raspy, gravelly chuckle. "It won't be easy for him. He'll meet the men from those castles along the way."
Robb nodded. "Good. Anything else?"
Ser Brynden grew serious once more. "Until then, Lord Tywin had been content to wait at the Golden Tooth. He's moved into the Riverlands now." He pointed to several markers on the map. "Tywin's burned through Wayfarer's West and Pinkmaiden. They could not keep him at bay."
Robb cursed, and his mother shot him a reproving glare. "He'll burn his way to King's Landing," Alysanne muttered.
Ser Brynden agreed. "It appears that way."
Robb leaned over and studied the map. He tapped a finger on Stone Hedge. "You say he flees in this direction?" His great-uncle nodded. "If I have Lord Bolton and his host cross at Darry as I planned, we could come from the direction of Riverrun and have him pinned."
His Uncle Brynden gave an approving smile. "A good plan, lad."
It was not long after his uncle Brynden's arrival that they reached the Twins, where his army was to split. They would continue on the Kingsroad as planned, in the direction of Darry, once the crossing was secured.
The Twins stood tall and staunch on either side of the Green Fork. Robb understood then why the crossing was so important. The river rushed furiously underneath the stone bridge and Robb shuddered to think of how long it would take them to ford it otherwise. It would add days to our journey. No, if they could not cross here, they would have to meet the Lannisters on that side of the Trident.
His mother cautioned him that Lord Frey would be tricky, and the reports from Ser Brynden's outriders did not bode well. The Freys had not in fact gone to join the forces at Riverrun as his grandfather commanded and instead were holed up inside their towers. "The Freys have never been in any rush to follow the orders of my father," his mother explained. "It's possible they may wait for the Lannisters. To strike a better deal."
"Do you really think they would align themselves with the Lannisters?" Robb asked. The Frey's are bannermen of the Tully's. Surely they would not turn against them.
"House Lannister gave him a prestigious marriage. Something my own father and his father before him failed to do."
They stopped their host and waited as a party of a dozen knights and Lord Walder's heir, Ser Stevron, came to greet them. His mother, Alysanne, the lords Karstark, Greatjon, and Bolton, all waited behind him.
Ser Stevron came to a stop. He was older, older than his father and mother. There was something about him that resembled a weasel. "Which of you commands?" He said..
He rode forward. "I, Robb Stark of Winterfell."
Ser Stevron inclined his head. "Be welcome, Robb Stark. My lord father invites you into the castle to share meat and mead, and discuss why you have come to the Twins."
His lords made sounds of protest behind him. "I like this not, my lord," Lord Bolton said. "He'll sell you to Lord Tywin the moment it suits him," the Greatjon said. They continued to grumble amongst themselves, and Ser Stevron grew more and more affronted. Grey Wind emerged from the host behind him, and their mounts shifted uneasily.
"My father is an honorable man," he protested. "He would never do such a thing." Robb glared over his shoulder. They'll never let us cross if they continue this.
His mother urged her horse forward. "Forgive them, Ser Stevron," she placated. "They're weary after what happened to my Ned. They meant no offence." She leaned towards him and whispered, "Perhaps I might go in your place."
Alys rode forward and stopped at his other side. "Robb, it must be you. You can't be seen as hiding behind your mother's skirts. Especially not now." He studied her. She wore a high-necked gown, Stark grey, and the cloak around her shoulders was fastened with the wolf's head pin his father gifted her on her last name day.
"Let them think so, better he stays alive than dead," his mother bit back.
Perhaps Alys has the right of it. He had worked hard to gain the respect of the lords. For all the Greatjon respected him, Lord Karstark remained wary. He did not doubt there were others as well. I am still a green boy in their eyes.
Alysanne addressed Ser Stevron. "You are your father's heir, yes?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Then perhaps as a show of good faith, you and a few of your men would remain here while my lord husband and I treat with Lord Walder. An assurance for both sides."
His mother snapped to her, eyes wide. "Alys," she hissed.
Alys met her glare. "If they harm me, they anger my grandfather as well as the north. They will not win. It is best we go together." His mother did not appear convinced. Robb remained hesitant as well. He would much prefer if she stayed here, where she would not be harmed at all.
Ser Stevron glanced to the knights behind him before cautiously nodding his acquiescence. What's done is done. He rode forward with Alysanne with Grey Wind trotting behind. Ser Stevron stopped them. "The beast stays here."
Alys gave him a sweet smile. "Grey Wind only responds to my husband. It is much safer for him to remain by his side. I would hate for any harm to come to you or your companions, should he grow unruly."
Ser Stevron eyed Grey Wind warily but did not protest further. They followed behind the six knights who had not been chosen to stay behind, and as they traveled closer, the river grew louder.
They continued on towards the two grey towers. "Grey Wind would not have hurt them," he said to Alysanne.
She grinned at him. "Of course not. I above all know that."
Robb snickered, and they rode through the gates. He could not fault the Frey's for being fearful of Grey Wind. He had grown much in the last moons and was the size of a large dog now. By the size of his paws, he still had more to grow.
A stable hand took their horses, and they continued on foot into the keep. The guards glanced at Grey Wind but none stopped him. They were greeted in the great hall by what Robb thought must be all the Frey's. It was one thing to hear how many there were, but another to see it. And they all share the same look.
Who Robb assumed to be Lord Walder sat above them all. He was surely the oldest man Robb had ever seen, and he looked it as well. Walder Frey was bald and looked as though his hair had long abandoned his body. He rather reminded Robb of a vulture. Or a weasel, like his son Ser Stevron.
"You will forgive me for not standing," he croaked. "It is no longer easy for a man of my age. Heh," with his laugh, the loose skin under his chin shook, or lack thereof.
"It is no matter, my lord. I am Robb Stark of Winterfell. My mother has told me much of you and your family."
Lord Walder grinned a gummy, toothless smile. "All good things, to be sure, to be sure." He moved his gaze to Alysanne. "And who is this?"
"My lady wife. Alysanne."
Alysanne curtsied. "A pleasure, my lord. My grandfather speaks highly of you."
"Doubtful," he snapped. Alys rose and Robb could see the twitch of her mouth as she fought to keep her face pleasant. "And that beast. Why should I allow him in my hall?"
"Grey Wind, my direwolf. Where he goes, I go."
Lord Walder sneered. "I don't care what you call him. Bold of you to bring such a creature, when it is my favor you need."
Robb cleared his throat and schooled his face. "Grey Wind is well trained, he will do you no harm."
Lord Walder only sneered. "You want to cross my bridge. Why should I let you?"
"You are sworn to obey my lord grandfather. It is a surprise to see you here in truth. His other leal lords have called their swords and made their way to Riverrun."
"Did you not see my swords when you entered, boy? I have long passed the age for marching. They sit on my walls and eat my food. It was my intent to send them on their way once they were all assembled. My son will tell you."
The man at his side nodded, his weasely neck bobbing. "It was, on my honor." Robb did not think either Walder Frey or his son had any honor to speak of, but he did not say so. If they had any honor, he thought, they would have long been on the march.
Alysanne stepped forward, her hands folded demurely in front of her. "Perhaps, my lord, we may speak of this between the three of us."
"We are speaking now, are we not?"
Alys gave him a thin smile. "In private." Lord Walder leveled a glare at her, but she did not break. He waved his hand and his flock filed out. They waited an inordinate amount of time for the hall to clear before any of them spoke again.
It was Robb who broke the silence. "I am sure I do not have to tell you, my lord, that I have twenty thousand men outside your walls."
"Heh, do you think I fear them? Your father rots in some traitor's cell, and you are a green boy with a mad Targaryen for a wife." Robb bristled, but he did not interrupt. We need this crossing. "When Lord Tywin gets here, he will make twenty thousand corpses of your men, heh, to be sure. I do not plan to join them." His head bobbed up and down. His jaw moved, even when he was silent. Robb fought the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust.
"Lord Tywin will not be here for some time, if he makes it here at all. My uncle could have used your help then, and he could use your help with Lord Tywin. Lest you end up a corpse, as you say." As if he is not a corpse already. Robb was quickly growing tired of the word games.
"Your uncle did not need me in his most recent victory. Why do you need me now? House Tully has always pissed on me, you are a boy, too young to know, but they have. Lord Hoster did not come to my wedding, or the last one, or the one before that. Do you know what he calls me, boy? The Late Lord Frey. Well, why should I not live up to his expectations? Lord Hoster insulted me by not attending my weddings. He insults me by refusing a betrothal. I have too many daughters, you saw them. Yet your uncle Edmure could not find one he liked. I told Hoster that House Frey is deserving of the honor. All he honors me with are excuses, but no betrothal."
"Why should he?" Lord Walder leered at Alysanne with his rheumy eyes, and Robb stiffened.
"Why should he?" he wheezed.
Alys lifted her chin. "Forgive me, my lord, but why should Lord Tully agree to such a betrothal? There are other houses that deserve the honor that have proved their loyalty time and time again."
"House Frey has been loyal to House Tully-"
"When it suits them," Alysanne finished for him. "The Rebellion. You only answered House Tully's call near the end of the war, when it was safe and clear that House Targaryen would fall. You waited to join the battle until King Robert's men had the upper hand. And you wonder why he calls you the Late Lord Frey. Once again Lord Tully has called you, and here you sit. Comfortable and do correct me if I'm wrong, with no plans being made to gather your men. Lord Edmure commanded you to let my lord husband's army through your gates, and yet you refuse. Perhaps you have forgotten, but you swore an oath to House Tully, as your liege lord."
"I also swore an oath to the King, and this King does not look kindly on traitors."
"What is it you think Joffrey will do if you refuse our crossing? Do you think he will reward you? He's just as like to take your head for not cutting us down here,"
"That is the King you speak of," Lord Walder warned, but Alys barreled over him.
"Perhaps you think Joffrey will make you Lord Paramount of the Trident."
A silence overtook the hall. Robb stared at Alysanne with wide eyes. She did not turn back at him. Lord Walder grew red of face and his hands shook. "You would accuse me of-"
"I would accuse you of cowardice."
Robb tensed. "Alys," he hissed. But she did not heed his warning. She'll ruin this for us. He'll never let us cross now.
"You think to speak to me of cowardice? Heh. One of your grandfathers-" a cough interrupted him and he spit on the floor. "One of your grandfathers was a madman. The other did not join the rebellion until after Rhaegar fell. After House Frey. And your father, heh, is perhaps the biggest coward of them all. The Kingslayer," Lord Walder laughed, and Alysanne drew her shoulders back. "Stabbed his own king in the back, when the tides shifted against him. I will not be called a coward in my own home, by a woman who does not know when to shut her mouth,"
"But you will be cowed by your liege lord. If you wish to receive that betrothal you so dearly want, that is." Lord Walder perked up at the mention of the betrothal. What does she mean to imply? Robb clenched his jaw. He knew it would do no good to so openly disagree with her. Rumors of strife between them would not serve.
It appeared that dangling the betrothal in front of him worked. It was agreed, with little input from Robb, that he would take on a squire and two other Frey boys would be sent to Winterfell to serve as wards. In addition, Alysanne would do her utmost to secure a betrothal for one of his daughters.
They rode back the way they came: with six knights, Grey Wind, and a boy by the name of Olyvar. Olyvar Frey had not yet spoken two words to Robb and was to serve as his squire. Something that will be a difficult task if he will not speak to me.
They trailed behind the party, well out of earshot. "You should not have done that," Robb hissed.
Alys scoffed. "Done what? Secured the crossing for you and your army?"
Robb furrowed his brows. "You dangled the betrothal in front of him and all but promised it. You insulted him as well. He would have been within his rights to refuse us."
"But he didn't."
"That's not-" Robb stopped himself and took a breath. "The point is, Walder Frey will not forget how you spoke to him."
Alysanne scoffed. "He will not remember it long. He's half in the grave as is."
Their host came into view and Alys urged her horse onwards, outpacing him and their escort. By the time Robb himself dismounted and met with his mother, Alys had long disappeared with her ladies.
They resumed their march, but split instead of one. Lord Bolton went on his way, and Robb led his men across the stone bridge. He left behind four hundred archers and swordsmen at his mother's suggestion. It comforted Robb to know that they remained to ensure Lord Walder's cooperation. He placed Lord Tallhart in command, a man who Robb trusted, who had not once spoken down to Alysanne.
Four hundred men remained, but four thousand joined his host. They continued south, and Robb reluctantly invited Ser Stevron to ride beside him. Much to his relief, the son was nothing like the father. A bit dull perhaps, with the same chinless profile, but Ser Stevron was far more polite than Lord Walder. He made idle chatter and asked after his family. That seemed to be the right choice. He spoke proudly of his sons and sang the praises of his daughters and granddaughters. Particularly the unmarried ones. He would see one as Lady Tully, I expect.
A half a day more and they made camp. The tents and banners rose the same as always, only this time, the two blue towers of Frey joined them. He found his mother after his routine walk through the camp.
"Mother," he embraced her. The dark bags under her eyes did not escape his notice. She does not sleep. Robb suspected he would not sleep easy either, if Alysanne and any children they may have were held captive. He had trouble sleeping enough as it was.
She lay a hand on the side of his face. "You are doing well," she praised. "My boy is no longer so." His heart swelled at her praise, but sank at the melancholy look on her face.
"Why don't you come take your evening meal with us?" Robb was to meet Alysanne and her ladies for dinner, along with Theon and Jon. Perhaps I will bring Olyvar along as well, he thought. He hoped that the young boy would grow more comfortable in his presence if Robb made it known he did not resent his company.
She shook her head. "Not tonight. I want to dine with my uncle and hear more of my father." Yet another matter that troubled her. With the news of his Uncle Edmure's victory and Lord Tywin's advance came news of his grandfather. His mother had not seen him since Robb had been born, and now he lay on his deathbed.
He kissed her forehead. "Take care."
Robb continued towards his and Alysanne's shared tent, Olyvar and Grey Wind close at heel. He could hear the conversation spilling into the air and could smell the warm food. His stomach grumbled. "Olyvar," he turned to him.
Olyvar looked with wide eyes. "Yes, my lord?"
Robb sighed. How many times have I told him to call me Robb, when not in formal company? He let it go. "You'll take your meal with us this evening."
"My lord, I would not want to impose-"
Robb opened the tent and ushered him in before he could protest further. He made the introductions and hid his mirth when Olyvar blushed furiously at being introduced to Alysanne's ladies. He took his seat and surveyed the food in front of him.
The scent of hearty stew and fresh bread wafted up to his nose. Roasted potatoes and carrots sat on a plate in front of him, as well as a mug of ale. Alysanne tossed a haunch of meat to Grey Wind and even that made his mouth water. He tore off a hunk of bread and dunked it into the stew. He lifted it to his mouth, but before he could take a bite, a man burst into the tent.
Robb sighed, setting it back on his plate. The man was out of breath and sweating. "My lord," he took a gulp of air. "Riders approach, four or five men," he said.
Robb rose from his seat and wiped his hands on his trousers. He bid the man to lead the way and followed him, Alys close behind. The riders were already dismounting, but the sun was in his eyes. He squinted. Is that…
Alysanne recognized them first. "Arya! Bran!" she cried. She picked up her skirts and ran to where they stood.
Robb grabbed Olyvar by his arm, startling the boy. "Go fetch my mother." Robb did not wait to see if Olyvar followed his command. He chased after Alysanne, who already held Bran and Arya in her arms.
Theon, Jon, and Alys' ladies had followed as well. Once Jon and Theon realized just who stood in front of them, they were rushing forth. Jory stood behind them, as did Jeyne. A strange man stood behind Jory and held the reins to their horses.
A cry from behind him alerted him to his mother's presence. She ran forward the same as Alysanne. Alys stepped back to greet Jeyne, but stopped short when she took in her disheveled appearance and the tears cutting tracks through the dirt on her face.
"Jeyne?" she put a hand on her arm and she flinched.
"We ran into trouble on the road," Arya said.
Robb studied Arya, his brother, Jory, and the strange man to find them in similar states to Jeyne. Their clothes were filthy, and they did not appear to have bathed in some time.
Robb walked up to Jory and clapped him on the shoulder. "We thought you were all still stuck in the Red Keep."
Jory nodded once. "We would have been, had your father not sent Bran and Arya home."
"And Sansa?"
"Still in that pit," Jory grimaced.
Alysanne began to lead Jeyne away. "Come, we'll find you some fresh clothes."
Jory stopped them. "Apologies Robb, Catelyn, Alysanne, but there is a matter that I must speak to you all about."
Alysanne glanced at Jeyne and then back to Jory. "Surely it can wait until after you've had a chance to clean up,"
Bran stepped forward then. "We know what happened to father."
Alys addressed Beth then. "Beth, will you help Jeyne?" Beth nodded and wound her arm through her old friends and led her away. Jorelle, Wylla, and Eddara all followed.
Robb led Bran, Arya, Jory, Alysanne, his mother, and Theon and Jon back to his tent. It was only when he faced them all that he noticed the strange man had followed as well.
Robb eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you?"
The man bowed with a flourish. "A man is Syrio Forel, master fencer and former First Sword of Braavos."
Jon studied him quizzically. "You're Braavosi? What are you doing here?"
Arya answered. "Father hired him. To teach me waterdancing." She gestured to the sword strapped to her side. Where did she get a sword?
His mother had the same question. "Where in the seven hells did you get a sword?"
"It doesn't matter," Arya argued. "What matters is that father is in trouble."
"Aye, we know." Robb said. "We received a raven from Sansa. What happened?"
"Littlefinger betrayed him," Jory said without preamble.
His mother paled, and Alysanne lowered her eyes. She was right about him.
"Why?" his mother pleaded, looking even more grief stricken than she had these past weeks.
"Perhaps it is Bran who should begin this tale," Jory gestured to Bran who grew apprehensive. "Go on, Bran," he urged. Bran took a steadying breath.
"In Winterfell, when the King came for Robb's wedding. I caught the Queen and Ser Jaime-" Bran stopped and peered at Alysanne with concern.
"It's okay, Bran," Arya said.
"I caught them having relations," he choked out. The tent went silent. Robb chanced a glimpse at Alysanne and found her devoid of all color. She slowly took a seat and would not meet his eyes.
Bran continued the story from there. How Ser Jaime threatened him after he caught them, the way Lord Baelish led his father to the same conclusions that Lord Arryn had drawn. The three golden-haired children who, by all means, should be black of hair. How his father sent Arya and Bran away and had tried to send Sansa as well. King Robert's death and how Littlefinger misled him. Alysanne sat frozen the entire time.
"My father, he wouldn't-" Alysanne started, but could not continue.
"He did, my lady. I'm sorry." Jory said gently.
Alysanne stood abruptly and wiped her hands on her skirts. Her voice shook when she said, "I should go check in on Jeyne." She fled the tent before Robb could stop her.
He made to run after her, but his mother stopped him. "Robb, you must stay and hear the rest," she said. Robb met the eyes of Ser Addam and jerked his head in the direction Alys had run. He nodded and set off in the same direction.
"That is not all, my lord. You should know of what your son did on the road," Jory glanced at Arya. "Your daughter as well."
His mother stiffened. "What did they do?"
"We were stopped to make camp, and Bran, Arya, and Jeyne all went to fetch water. As was our routine." Arya paid special attention to her feet. "Some brigands attacked them." His mother's eyes grew wide and she clutched at her chest. "If Arya tells it true, Bran took down two of the men on his own. Arya took one of them and saved Jeyne from harm."
Two men on his own? Robb surveyed the room. Arya cast a nervous look at their mother. Bran shifted uncomfortably. "Is this true, Bran?" Robb asked.
Bran focused on Arya. "I took down one man, but Arya helped with the other. It wasn't entirely by myself. She jumped on him and distracted him while I got the first one."
Arya scowled at him. "Don't be stupid. You could have done it anyway."
"Jory said you took on one of them, Arya," his mother stated, the question of how unvoiced. Robb himself was curious and regarded his sister. For the first time, he noticed a small sword strapped to her side. It had escaped their notice in the excitement of finding them safe.
"With this." She drew the thin blade and held it out for Robb's inspection. "I told you. Syrio has been teaching me. I had to! He was hurting Jeyne."
His mother moved around the table and drew Arya into her arms. "It's alright, sweetling."
They did not linger long together, so weary were they. His mother ordered baths for the group before she set about finding tents for Jory and Syrio. His mother did not let Bran or Arya out of her sight that night, nor during the march the next morning. She wanted to send both of them onwards to Winterfell, but the two of them argued against the notion with more vigor than Robb expected. His mother compromised and agreed to let them continue on as far south as Riverrun. It did not take much to convince her. Robb suspected she was more than pleased at that arrangement. She would be loath to let them out of her sight now.
Alysanne did not return to the tent until late that night, long after the rest of the group dispersed. She did not speak of what they learned and Robb did not pry. The thought of it made him sick. Any remaining irritation towards her from the Twins was long gone and replaced with worry. She did not speak during the march either, even though Robb had requested her presence at the front.
He found Alysanne standing over the map again the following night. Robb could not stand the silence any longer. "Alys," he whispered. He put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed, but did not move away from him. Progress, he thought to himself. She clenched a figurehead from the map tight in her fist, so tight her knuckles were white. He placed a hand over hers. Although her grip loosened, she did not relinquish it.
"I never thought… for all I did not know my father, I never thought…" She did not complete her sentence, and Robb thought she was perhaps talking to herself more than him.
"Why would you have?" Robb said. He focused on the map and found she was once more standing over the Westerlands. The letters she received from her father prior to their departure lay in a neat pile in front of her, obscuring Ashemark, Castamere, and the Golden Tooth.
She spun abruptly and faced Robb. Her face was tearstained. "You have to believe me. I knew nothing of this. I did not know my… cousins were his children, and I did not know he threatened Bran, please Robb,"
He shushed her and wiped away the fresh tears that spilled over. He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. "Why would I not believe you? How could you have? He pulled away enough to see her face. "Has someone said otherwise?"
She turned away, back towards the map. "The men speak and mutter amongst themselves. I feel their eyes on me when I pass and– god's Robb," her voice broke. He held her silently as she sobbed, for how long he did not know. He let her tears soak into his shift and ran his fingers through her hair.
She stepped away from him and the redness of her eyes only made the green burn brighter. She wiped away the tears. When she spoke, her voice was filled with anger. "I hate him, Robb." That caused his heart to ache more. She was so excited. To write to him once more. She ran her eyes over the map. She placed a familiar marker over Casterly Rock and swept by him towards their makeshift chambers. "Come. I grow tired, and we've a long march ahead of us."