Chapter 8: A Journey

Robb bid farewell to his young queen twice.

Once in the godswood in front of the heart tree in the sights of gods and men. The second time beneath the portcullis where Jeyne sent him forth with a long embrace and a longer kiss.

Sansa knew she should avert her eyes, give them privacy, but her gaze was glued to their mouths, how they devoured each other in a kiss that seemed so very different from the fleeting touching of lips she had experienced with the Hound. Was this what a kiss was supposed to be like? Had she made a fool of herself when she kissed the Hound in such a childlike, inexperienced way?

Then again, he had not looked displeased, so maybe she'd done something right after all. Maybe this sort of kissing Jeyne and Robb did was just for married couples and on further study, even though the both of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, the whole process looked really rather uncouth and gross.

Surely her mother thought so as well, because while the men around them softly whistled or smiled knowingly, her mother looked pinched and displeased as if she had eaten a piece of lemon.

An hour beyond Tumblestone, Jeyne came galloping up on a well-lathered horse to plead with Robb to take her along.

Robb was clearly touched by that, Sansa saw, but abashed as well. The day was still damp and grey, the rain had turned to drizzle and the last thing he probably wanted was to have a discussion with his wife in front of half of his army about how she was supposed to obey his orders.

In the end he declared it too much of a bother to send her back with an escort and decided against a third farewell.

…

Over the course of their journey, the rain turned heavier again.

They rode mostly in silence under leaden skies. The rain turned the roads to mud and the fields to quagmires, stripped the trees of their leaves, swelled the rivers and turned even little streams into frothing torrents, making most of them impassable for fear of losing horses or wains.

There was much and more that could hold up an entire army of almost four thousand men, hundreds of horses and oxen-drawn carts.

Sansa was tempted to wish for a more pleasant journey, but knowing it would be frivolous to wish for comfort when there were so much more important things still ahead of them always had her smother the thought before it could fully form.

Their route took them through the Whispering Woods, an experience that Sansa was sure would give her nightmares for many nights to come. She knew it was the place of her brother's first and most decisive victory. The place where they had taken Jaime Lannister prisoner, the man her mother had sent away to be exchanged for her and Arya against Robb's will.

But all she could see were the signs of carnage: the rotting bones of a horse, the splintered lances, the overturned helms filling with rain. Stone cairns had been raised over the bodies of the fallen, but scavengers had been at some of them. There were glimpses of bright cloth and shining metal and once she spied a face peering out at her, the shape of the skull beginning to emerge from beneath the melting brown flesh.

So much death, she thought, with both revulsion and sadness. So much suffering and horror. Such a waste of men and animals and steel. And for which purpose? For revenge? For justice?

Was it just to have thousands die for the death of one man? Would her father have wanted this on his behalf? Who had invested kings and lords with the right to lead men to their deaths for whatever purpose they seemed deserving?

Should it not be in the hands of the gods, old and new alike, to determine the fate of men? And if the lords did the will of the gods, as they were so sure they did, how could it be that both sides claimed it was so?

All men are killers.

Had he been right? Even more so than she had understood at the time? Was her life to be lived in the intermissions between wars, in the short periods were men licked their wounds and armies replenished their resources only to be at one another's throats again as soon as possible?

Was there truly no other way?

...

Their journey was prolonged even more when they discovered that they had to go around the Blue Fork, further delaying their journey and probably angering Lord Walder even more with their tardiness.

They made camp near Oldstones, where Lord Mallister joined their party. Whatever news he had brought, whatever was discussed at her brother's tent, didn't seem to be happy tidings. Her mother looked more unhappy and dissatisfied with every passing hour, snapped at everyone who dared speaking to her and her brother almost never spoke to anyone outside of the meetings he held with his bannermen.

The only one who was carefree and happy was dear Jeyne. With every passing day, she seemed to bloom and warm up, had smiled almost constantly and had started to have a glow to her that shone even over the grey and damp of the weather around them as if it couldn't faze her.

"She's breeding," her mother one day said to Sansa when they both sat down at a makeshift trestle table for their midday meal. "Took them long enough and not for want of trying," she added and Sansa blushed at her mother's bluntness. Surely she shouldn't discuss such things in front of her?

She must have made a sound of distress, because her mother suddenly looked at her and then lowered her eyes again.

"I am sorry, Sansa," she said, reaching out a hand to her. "I shouldn't have said that. I know you like her well enough, but I am so very worried for your brother. I have not yet consoled myself to him marrying her and breaking his vow, I still think it unwise to bring her with him." Then she sighed and rubbed her free hand over her brow. "Just this morning, I angered my brother by speaking what I deem the truth and now he doesn't speak to me anymore and Robb means to send me away after the wedding, to stay with Lord Mallister at Seagard when all I want is to stay at his side."

It was the longest and most honest confession her mother had so far made in her presence and Sansa felt not all at easy to find her mother, whom she always had thought to be so in control of every one of her feelings, so at the mercy of her own turbulent emotions.

Was this something new, or something she only had never noticed before, being too young to really see?

"I'll be with you at Seagard," Sansa said and there was a look in her mother's eyes that said yes, but and that look hurt her more than she could have believed possible.

Suddenly not hungry anymore, she shoved her half eaten meal away and stood.

"If you excuse me, mother, I promised Jeyne to work on the tapestry with her."

She turned to go and after a few steps pretended not to hear her mother calling her name.

…

They heard the Green Fork before they saw it, an endless insistent murmur, like the low growl of a great beast.

Robb summoned his wife and family to his side and donned his crown to greet Lord Walder or whomever the man would think to send out into the rain in his stead.

Four Freys rode out from the gatehouse and while her mother, uncle and brother discussed the identity of those men, Sansa's attention was captured by Grey Wind who stood stiff, his wet fur in bristles along his neck, golden eyes watchfully peering from narrowed eyes. Something was clearly making him weary, but what drew Sansa's attention more than all that was the softly red-golden sheen on his fur.

Other than her beloved Lady or even Bran's Summer, Grey Wind's fur never had any sort of lightness to it. It was like smoky grey mist, enabling him to blend in with fog and rain and shadows and one would only notice him when it was too late.

But now he almost sparkled with golden dust and for the moment not caring what people would think of it, she dismounted and stepped over to the great direwolf whose head almost reached her shoulders. She lifted her hands to bury them into the soft fur at his neck and felt more than heard the beginning of a growl, a low rumble not unlike the one of the river.

She wound her arms around the wolf's neck.

"I do not trust them either," she whispered into his ears and as if he truly understood her words, his ears turned to where her mouth was, although his eyes never left the approaching party. "If you'll help me, we'll keep him safe, you and I, but you have to heed me."

The wolf's whole body started to tremble like a bowstring drawn too tight and it seemed as if he meant to spring forward, toward the men who were by now no more than half a dozen yards away.

"Stay," she whispered and to her surprise, he did. She would have had not a sliver of a chance to hold him should the wolf decide otherwise.

His big head turned to her and golden eyes locked with hers. For a moment, she was taken aback at the intelligence, the sheer keenness in those eyes. Something deep inside her soul was awakened and tugged at as she kept looking at the wolf, giving her a feeling of stinging and prickling like blood flowing back into an unused limb.

Suddenly, she could feel the wolf's agitation, could smell the stench of lies, anger and fear on the men who traded words with her brother.

Something was wrong, something was much worse than all of them had anticipated.

"Grandfather will be pleased to get to see the woman of whom I have told him so much," the man whom Sansa knew to be Black Walder said, sounding unfriendly and on edge.

Then their gazes turned to where she was still standing next to Grey Wind, her arms around the wolf.

"And who might this beauty be?"

"My sister, Princess Sansa Stark," Robb answered stiffly, not before giving her an annoyed glance at her behaviour.

Black Walder's angry scowl deepened.

"You well concealed the happy tidings that your sister was returned to you, Your Grace," he said. "My grandfather will be displeased to have been kept in the dark about this."

The three men in Black Walder's company eyed her appreciatively and Sansa nearly gagged at the cloying smell they gave off; all covetous greed and ill-concealed lust.

In their eyes, she could see the speculation if they would still get Tywin Lannisters' gold if they returned her unharmed but not untouched.

At some point, one of them cleared his throat and turned to Robb again and they were soon discussing where they would be staying during the wedding. Her sense of foreboding grew stronger as the Freys suggested a plan that would split Robb and his lords bannermen from the rest of his men.

"If you would follow me, my lord father awaits," was finally said and Sansa gave Grey Wind's neck a last squeeze before mounting her horse again.

Her mother fell into step with uncle Edmure, whispering to him in strained tones, so Sansa used the chance to speak to Robb.

"They mean mischief, all of them," she told him urgently.

"I know they don't mean well," Robb replied, clearly irritated. "But I have an army to protect me and mother insists that as long as we take bread and salt as soon as we see the old man, we will be safe."

"We won't be," Sansa said, suddenly even surer of the fact than she had been before. "I know it. Grey Wind knows it."

Robb looked down at his wolf who walked across the drawbridge as if it was made of hot coals. But as if an invisible leash was binding her to him, she drew him up short when she felt he wanted to balk and growl and make a fuss.

"What do you want me to do?" Robb asked.

She was at a loss for a moment, but then she looked down at the golden sheen on Grey Wind's fur and she knew.

"Meet me after the audience with Lord Frey is at an end," she said. "I'll claim to want to tend to your wolf."

Robb nodded tersely.

"You do not want to get dry and rest a bit before the evening?" he asked. "Jeyne said she can barely stay in the saddle anymore."

A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of exactly why Jeyne was so exhausted. The young queen had not yet told Robb what all of them suspected, not sure enough of the news yet, but her tiredness surely was another sign, or so her mother claimed.

Others, like gossiping servants not noticing Sansa's presence, said that Jeyne's tiredness rather came from the demands her brother made of her at night, the nature of which seemed to be common knowledge but were a mystery to her.

"I am not all that tired," she answered Robb's question, although the thought of a dry room and a fire was beyond tempting, but could not stand against the very real fear she felt about how this day was to turn out.

"Please stay calm whatever it takes," she told Robb when they dismounted. "You must not let yourself be provoked."

Her cautious words earned her the sight of her kingly brother rolling his eyes in a decidedly unkingly fashion.

"I know," he said. "I already had the pleasure of hearing this from mother. I shall be as meek as a lamb and as sweet as a septon. I shall eat whatever he brings before me, even if it's rotten flesh crawling with maggots."

The audience with the lord of the castle went as well or as badly as could be expected, Lord Walder wasting no chance to push the boundaries of propriety to see Robb humiliate himself.

After he had put Robb through apologizing to his many daughters, after they had been given bread and cheese and butter instead of the fare Robb had expected, after her uncle Edmure's prospective bride had been revealed to be so lovely it appeared her uncle couldn't help but fall in love with her on the spot, Lord Frey finally seemed to notice the two other women on Robb's side.

"Now to those two," he drawled, pointing his gouty fingers rudely to Jeyne and her. "Whom are you bringing before me now, your grace? Two saleswomen, one could say, if one were polite. One sold herself for a crown, the other for her freedom."

Robb jerked next to her and Sansa almost reached out to lay a calming hand on her brother's arm.

Be still, be calm, she urged him silently. Remember what we talked about.

"I do not understand your meaning, Lord Walder," Robb replied, his voice thin and trembling with anger. "I brought to you my lady wife, your queen, and my lady sister over whose return we're rejoicing."

Lord Walder smacked his lips over his toothless gums in a disgusting fashion and let his weasel eyes roam once more over both of them. Nothing but greed was in the way he looked them over, Tywin Lannister's promise of gold clearly at the fore of his thoughts. Jeyne received a similar look and Sansa's stomach clenched at the notion that the Lannisters might have put a price on her head as well, only that with her they wouldn't care if she was dead or alive, as long as she would not bear Robb any sons.

Under Sansa's hand, Grey Wind's fur bristled and he growled so low in his throat, the sound vibrated all through her.

Quiet, Grey Wind, she commanded in her thoughts and – still surprising to her – the wolf calmed.

"She seems to have a way with canines, your sister has," Lord Walder said after looking at where she had her hand buried in the wolf's fur. "She's a witch, they say. One hears she bewitched the Lannister's Hound, gave him a fair face and her body besides and in thanks he freed her from captivity."

Sansa's jaw went slack and she found herself looking at Lord Walder with wide-eyed astonishment.

That was what people were saying? That she had used witchcraft? That Sandor Clegane's changed appearance was her doing, the price paid for her freedom in addition to giving him herself as well?

For the life of her, she couldn't even come up with an answer for this charge.

Robb, however, didn't miss a beat.

"If my sister was truly as powerful a sorceress, wouldn't she have freed herself the moment my father was killed? Or more importantly, would she not have saved my lord father in the first place?"

Sansa slowly turned her head to look with pained horror at her brother. His words didn't sound like something he had just made up in answer to Lord Walder's ridiculous claim. It had been on his mind long before now and she felt betrayed that he had never shared any of this with her.

"T'is known that a witch only comes into her power once she starts bleeding. She disappeared mere days after that happened, one hears."

Behind her back, she heard her mother gasp for air and as her face burned with embarrassment at having her private matters so publicly discussed, she felt her brother's eyes on her as well.

What with one thing and another, she had not yet gotten around to telling her mother that she had flowered already, it seemed so unimportant a detail in comparison to all the other momentous things that had happened during the last couple of weeks. She had not even consciously thought about it herself, probably only would have thought of it if she had bled again.

But now her own family was looking at her as if she had kept a war-changing secret.

"If she had the power to change a man's face, why would she have needed the Hound's help at all?"

It was Jeyne, wonderful, sweet Jeyne who had come to her rescue and to Sansa's great relief, Lord Walder had no immediate answer to Jeyne's sensible question.

He flapped his hand dismissively.

"You're right, it's probably all idle gossip anyway. You are all welcome here beneath my roof and at my table," he said cheerily and then gestured to some of his sons and grandsons. "You're weary and wet as well, dripping on my floor. There's fires waiting for you and hot mulled wine and baths should you want them. Lothar, show our guests to their quarters."

Sansa found herself weaken at the prospect of mulled wine, fire and warm water, but in her mind's eye, she saw the face from the Whispering Woods again, half-rotten and dead, buried in cold wet earth far from home. If she didn't want to end up just like this, comfort had to wait.

"I'll need to see my men across the river," Robb said, "and Lady Sansa wishes to walk Grey Wind for a while."

"Your men shan't get lost," Lord Walder complained. "They've crossed before, haven't they? And your wolf has had enough traipsing around already, he looks just as wet and tired as the rest of you. Surely a dry kennel and a leg of mutton will do him good, don't you think? I shall summon my master of hounds."

Sansa drew herself upright.

"He's a direwolf not a dog and he's weary around people and places he doesn't know," she said decisively. "If he gets acquainted with the place, he shall be docile as a lamb at the feast."

"I'll not have him at the my sweet Roslin's wedding," Lord Walder said with an ugly downturn of his lips. "Has a taste for human flesh, this one, one hears. Rips out throats and the like. There will be women and little ones at the feast and I won't have them hurt."

"Grey Wind is no danger to them," Robb protested, "not as long as I am there. You've seen how well behaved he was the entire time."

Lord Walder sucked his lips in and pushed them out again, visibly searching for a way to get rid of Grey Wind. Sansa had by now some idea of what he was trying to cook up and Grey Wind would put some of his plans at risk.

She frantically searched for a solution, something that would leave Lord Walder no choice.

"Oh Robb," she said, turning to her brother while trying to force artificial tears to her eyes. "It is quite alright; I can fully understand Lord Walder's misgivings. Only you know how dreadfully frightened I am when Grey Wind is not by my side, so I'll stay with him in my quarters, it will be best for all."

An identical expression of frowning puzzlement appeared on both her brother's and Lord Walder's faces, but Robb quickly caught on.

"I am afraid my sister is quite right," he said with an apologetic mien so patently artificial, it almost made Sansa laugh. "She became very attached to the wolf after she came back and only feels safe when he's with her. Since she has only recently returned to us, I have indulged her in this. It might be best if she stayed away from the feast with him."

"Eh!" Lord Walder exclaimed, flapping his hand in the dismissive gesture he used when his will was thwarted. "Bring the beast then and your sister with it, I'll not have it said I do not accommodate my king's family as well as is possible, even if it means to turn my sweet innocents to wolf-fodder."

...

tbc