Robb Stark – Part Two
Robb couldn't help but feel he was failing miserably at this lord business. His father had become Lord when he was younger than Robb, and had led the North into Robert's Rebellion. So far all Robb had managed to do was piss off four of his five "loyal subjects". Outside his immediate family and perhaps the Greyjoy's, nobody considered him the Lord of Winterfell. Most considered him dead, and those that knew he lived saw him as a little boy playing grown-up.
He had wanted to knock Theon's teeth in when he found out what he told Arya, but he had so few allies it didn't seem wise to physically harm one especially when he was on the outs with his brother and chosen confidante. Jon's eyes had turned hard as stone when he had found out what the whole fuss was about, and he had rarely made eye contact with Robb since.
That's how Robb found him, sulking openly, in the Great Hall, his eyes glinting steely when he registered Robb's presence.
"I need to speak to you brother," Robb said, using the title against Jon. He hoped to remind him of his duty to Robb, his blood allegiance.
Jon leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting.
"This is why I hadn't told you to begin with, I knew you wouldn't be able to distance yourself from the situation, to look at it with a clear mind. Allies don't come without a price Jon."
Jon remained silent, his jaw clenched.
"Did you think she would never marry then? Even if Father were alive, she would marry. Perwyn Frey is a good man; I have met him on several occasions. He will treat her well."
The rage came off Jon in waves, creating an almost unbearable tension in the room.
"I'm the Lord of Winterfell now, I must do what is best for the people, not just for us. I would never have gained passage for us across the Twins without a bargain."
Jon spoke then, his voice strangely quiet despite the fact that they were alone, "And what of Sansa? She's the elder sister, why did the Frey's not ask for her? Why did you choose Arya instead?"
Robb sighed, he suddenly felt much older than his years, "I told you Jon, allies don't come free. The Greyjoy's won't aid us for nothing either, and I thought a Frey was a damn near better match for Arya than the person she can least stand in this world."
"There are other ways to gain allies than bartering off your sisters."
"And what are they? Because I've yet to see any. We've no money, no gold, no men. I have nothing to barter with but Arya and Sansa. Do you think I enjoy this?"
Jon hung his head, relaxing his posture, "No. Forgive me brother, perhaps I have been too harsh on you."
"I tried to avoid this Jon, I thought to offer to wed you or Bran to one of Walder Frey's daughters, a companion for Roslin when we return to Winterfell, but – "
Jon cut him off, his face full of understanding, "But nobody wants a cripple or a bastard."
Robb nodded, "Aye."
"When will you send her off then?"
"A raven came from the Frey's before we broke fast yesterday. They're sending their septa to Pyke, they want to, check, her."
"For what? Certainly they cannot think – "
"We escaped Winterfell under attack Jon, you know what happens in attacks."
Jon nodded and said, "Have you spoken to Arya yet?"
"She won't see me, she won't see anyone save Bran and Rickon."
"Try again Robb."
Robb nodded, "Aye I will."
Jon made to leave, but turned in the threshold of the doorway, "You think Roslin made it then Robb?"
Robb swallowed thickly, "I think so, yes, though I am not sure if she wouldn't be better of dead than where she is."
xXx
The call had been sent out through ravens and word of mouth, precautions taken to ensure the message would not fall into the wrong hands. Any man who laid his allegiance with Robb Stark would meet in one moons time at the Twins, to begin the march on to Winterfell.
He would go with Arya and Jon, one would remain at the Twins with her new husband and the other would march into battle with him, his right hand man; his most trusted confidante.
There was a wedding to arrange first however. He did not want to leave Pyke without Sansa being duly wed to Theon, she would be safe then. He trusted his friend despite what others thought, he would protect Sansa better than she would be protected if she were left amongst the savage Ironborn unwed.
He liked little the idea of his sister wedding anyone, laying with anyone, least of all his whore of a friend. But she was no longer the child he had instinctually protected, she was a women grown and far past the time when most ladies were married.
Theon had agreed to a wedding in a week's time; marriage was hardly celebrated on the Iron Island and it would not be the big celebration they were used to at Winterfell. He remembered, dully, that this seemed to upset his sister the most. She had dreamed of her wedding since childhood and had seemed stung by the knowledge that she would not see the fulfillment of her dream.
He thought of his lady mother, of what she would say if she knew where her precious Sansa, her prized jewel, was going to spend the rest of her days.
He had insisted Sansa and Theon spent more time together, now that they were intended to marry. He was now regretting that decision, watching the two of them with a sour taste in his mouth.
Their conversation seemed pained, grasping for words though they had nothing to say. Robb had noticed how Theon leered at her, licking his lips subconsciously as he eyed her body. His sister was beautiful, to be certain, but did not deserve to be treated in such a way; even by her future husband.
"Did you hear me Robb?"
Robb was shaken from his thoughts, "I'm sorry sister, please forgive me, but I seem to have lost myself in my thoughts."
"I said, do you not think perhaps Theon should ride with you to Winterfell? I will be alright here, and it would do you good to have a trusted friend by your side."
His sister was smarter than she appeared. Theon would surely swell with importance if Robb asked him to come, then if Sansa were lucky he would die in battle before he left her with child and she would be free to marry.
He appreciated her cunning, but the plan was to keep her safe, not to stroke Theon Greyjoy's ego or get him killed.
"I think sister, perhaps, it is best that Theon stays here to protect you and the boys. Do you not agree Theon?"
"But Asha –"
"That is my decision Sansa."
She bowed her head, "Yes my lord, it was only a thought."
He felt more and more like an arse as the days passed. Commanding others to stop speaking when he no longer wished to continue a conversation, making the decisions for everyone. Not for the first time he felt infinitely older than his two and twenty years.
"The sun has finally made an appearance," Sansa said changing the subject, "perhaps you would be so kind as to take a walk with me my lord?"
She was speaking to Theon this time, her voice melodic, hiding the acidity, she played her part well.
Theon nodded, "If you'd like."
Sansa turned to Robb, "Arya was in the practice yard with Rickon earlier, perhaps you should go check on her."
Perhaps he would.
xXx
As Sansa had predicted, Arya was to be found in the practice yard, teaching Rickon how to properly shoot with a bow as, surprisingly, Asha Greyjoy watched on, a twinkle in her eye.
He nodded at Asha, "My Queen."
"Ever so formal Lord Stark, I am the Queen of the Iron Island, not your Queen."
"What shall I call you then?"
"Just Asha will do. I s'pose it isn't me you've come to find though, am I right?"
He nodded, looking over at Arya. The younger girl eyes had not left the target as she showed Rickon three perfect shots in a row.
Asha stood, "Rickon, perhaps we can go for a ride along the shoreline? I think there are some places you may have missed in your exploration."
The little boy nodded, taking Asha's hand obediently and allowing himself to be lead away.
After they were gone, Arya stood fast in her ignoring of him, collecting the arrows silently, her back to him all the while.
"You cannot avoid me forever you know."
"I can try."
He chuckled, "Come on Arya, don't you at least want to yell at me a bit? Maybe use me as a moving target?"
She turned, one eyebrow cocked, "Well now that you mention it…"
She held the bow at to him then, "Take a shot Robb."
He accepted it, memories flooding back to him of home; of watching Arya best Bran every time there was a target around; of little Arya no more than eight begging him to teach her, then practicing until her fingers bled and he had to carry her to her chambers.
He let his hands grow used to the bow, it was cheaply made, and not the quality he was used to at home.
"Don't be angry with Jon, Arya. You can be cross with me if you'd like, it wouldn't be less than I deserve, but don't be angry with Jon."
She frowned, "He's just as traitorous as you, why shouldn't I hold anger towards him?"
"Jon didn't know Arya."
He saw her expression grow muddled, confused, as her face softened, taking in the new information.
"I wish the world did not work this way Arya."
"It doesn't have to Robb. Most girls are married off by four and ten, sometimes younger. Father protected us from that."
"That was under different circumstances Arya."
"When do I leave then?"
"Soon," Robb eyed her wearily, confused by the ease in which she had given in, "The Frey's are sending a septa first."
"To make sure I'm still a maiden?"
"Aye."
"And when they find I am not, what then."
He felt the color leave his face as every particle of his body came alive with rage, frustration, at the thought of a man laying a hand on his youngest sister. He searched for the words to say, stumbling over himself as he spluttered indignantly. He wanted to rip someones head off, kill them.
"Who?"
Arya had shrunken away from him, her own face ashen at the realization of what she had said.
"Jon."
xXx
No matter how long he remained in the Pyke he would never learn all the passages and hallways and how they interconnected, he was forever lost. Today however he had little issue finding his way directly to his brother's room.
He hadn't bothered to knock, catching Jon off guard as he sharpened his sword.
Robb knocked it from his hand, before tackling his brother bodily to the ground, his fists landing blows against his brothers face, ignoring his yells of protest and question.
He vaguely registered Arya behind him, screaming, grabbing at his arms.
Every time he felt his fists connect with Jon's flesh, he felt worse instead of better as the rage continue to build. His knuckles were sore and stained with blood, though he wasn't sure if it was his own or his brothers.
Jon seemed to in shock to fight back, protecting his face from the blows and scream indistinguishable words at his brother.
It was only the presence of Sansa that stopped his assault, she had entered the room without his knowledge and had helped Arya yank him away just long enough for him to realize the damage he had done.
Jon lay against the stone ground, his right eye too swollen to see out of, and his lip and nose pouring blood, he stared up at him confused.
"How dare you lay a hand on her!"
Jon wasn't looking at him any longer though, staring over his shoulder, his eyes full of confusion.
Robb turned too, pushing off his haunches to stand.
Sansa looked stricken, standing in the corner a hand covering her mouth; and in the middle of the room Arya stood, tears streaming freely down her face, a sight he had rarely seen, as her eyes locked with Jon's.
"I only said it because I thought he wouldn't make me marry the Frey. I only said it so he would let me stay here, with you." Her voice was pleading, and Robb realized she wasn't speaking to him.
It dawned on him suddenly, a wave of nausea overwhelming him, he had been duped. Arya had lied about Jon, lied to get her way.
He turned back towards his brother, who had now risen as well, "Jon, I – "
Jon shook his head, using the back of shirt sleeve to wipe his face of blood, "It isn't your fault brother, you only meant to protect our sisters honor."
"I was lied to."
"I'm sorry."
She sounded sorry, another first for Arya. He wondered though, was she sorry for telling him a lie, or sorry that her lie had hurt Jon.
Sansa stepped forward, "Robb, I can assure you Arya is still a maiden. Jon, our, our, our brother," she struggled over the words, she had never felt like Jon's sister, "he would not do that to you, or her, to our family, our father. Arya was just being a selfish child."
Arya made to protest but was silenced by the stares all three leveled on her.
She stepped forward timidly, "Please forgive me."
Robb shook his head, "I need to think."
He had just beat his brother terribly, his one truest ally in the world and he had beat him ruthlessly, all over the lie of a child. It scared him that he could hold such raise.
Scarier still, he had, if even for a short while, believed that Arya and Jon could have laid together as man and woman. He had drawn up all the memories of them from the past years, especially the past few moons, and for the briefest moment it had made sense to him.
He needed to escape the suffocating chamber, full of the irony stench of blood and heavy with accusation. He needed to think, to clear his mind.