It was beautiful dress, nobody could deny that. Black coils of silk curving over a pitch black dress that fit me perfectly.
I did not want to admire myself, even though my bump gave me a shot of happiness every time I saw it. I was too sad. It was the day of Theon's funeral. It wasn't anything too elaborate, but I made sure that he would be buried in the Iron Born way; thrown out to the sea.
However, before his body was sent to the ocean, we had his body placed in front of the Godswood. I walked down there with Robb. Some one said something, and I just looked at Theon.
I don't know why his death has struck me so. We were good friends, but we had only known each other for a few months. Was it because of his bad jokes? His sexual innuendos? What was it that makes me weep?
I watched as they carried his body away on a wagon. He was being sent to his family. One last kindness. As the wheels disappeared, I turned away and took a deep breath.
I closed my eyes and repeated the words. "Princess of Summer; Lady of Winter." I needed to be strong.
• • •
A little less than two fortnights was when the letter came. "Sansa," Robb breathed out. I went and read the letter. "It may be Sansa's print, but it is my mother's words." My voice was dripping with venom.
"What shall we do, my lord?" Maester Luwin asked. "We raise our banners, and fight. Not only for my father, but for my sisters." I don't look at Robb, but instead at my stomach. "For our baby," I say.
The next few weeks were a flurry of activity. Stark banner men came, filling up the inns and town. There were so many. I sat next to Robb at every feast, permitting rude lords to stare at not only my stomach, but my bosom.
Yes, it had gotten larger in preparation for the baby, but these lords were low lords. I was a Princess, or at least a high lady. They had no right to treat me as a common woman.
There were many times when I feared for Robb's life. When that giant lord, what ever his name was, threatened him, and Grey Wind bit off two fingers, I was sure that I would be a widow.
The politics here in the North were very different. Here, to make allies, you would prove yourself. In the South, usually a marriage and a new castle did the trick.
It upset me that Robb would go to Bran and talk to him. Did Robb not trust me? He still acted normal around me, he just didn't open up. We practically lay with each other every night; that was one thing the pregnancy was doing to me.
"I'm coming," I say. We have had this conversation many times. But today was the day before he left, and this was a last attempt. If he didn't let me come, I might have to ride Elm a league behind him.
He looks at me. "Are you insane? You aren't just protecting yourself anymore." I scoffed at him. "Robb, you know I can play this game. I can strategize -" He cut me off with a kiss.
Oh, how I wish I pushed him away. Instead, he tired me out. When I woke up, he was gone.
I stood up, and slipped on a blue dress. I run to the courtyard, but only dust was left. I yelled in anger. "M'Lady, perhaps you should come inside. You don't want to catch a chill." A maid said.
"Gods damn you Robb!" I yell. I felt a sudden jar in my stomach. "Take me to Maester Luwin," I managed. The maid led me to him. "What's wrong?" I asked him. "Is he okay?"
He laughs. "You need not to worry. The baby is fine. Just kicking my lady." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods."
I put my hands onto my stomach, and felt him kick. "Hello my darling," I whispered. I felt a sudden sadness; Robb wasn't here.
• • •
"Rickon," I say quietly. He was miserable and angry since Robb said he was leaving. There was only Bran and I left, and I was just his sister by marriage. Today, he was sulking in his room.
He just stared at the floor.
I had a new idea.
"Would you like to feel the baby kick?" He looked at me then. I guided his hand to my stomach. The second it made contact, the baby kicked. Rickon laughed.
"He kicks every time somebody puts a hand on my stomach." I told him. It was queer, as he never moved unless there was contact. Maester Luwin said it was normal, and to not worry.
I sat next to Bran now, as he was lord. I helped, a lot. I dealt with finances, stocking, and other things that Bran was hopeless at. He was good, however, at hearing citizen's demands and pleas.
Everyday, all I could think of is that I should be with Robb, riding next to him on Elm. "A battlefield is no place to have a child," my handmaiden, Lorena, told me. "Your chances of a healthy birth are much better here in Winterfell, with all your midwives and a warm hearth than a war tent."
I had to agree. But still, couldn't I go with Robb, and when I had a month left, head back to Winterfell?
Robb and I wrote letters constantly, talking about the war and the baby. It was something to look forward to.
One day, Bran and I went riding. Elm was not getting decent exercise, and I vowed to myself that when the baby was born, I would start riding again.
"I always thought as Robb as two people." Bran admitted. "Really?" I ask, amused. "Yes. It was either Robb the lord or Robb the brother." I laugh. "I see what you mean. To me, it was Robb the lord, Robb the brother, and Robb the husband. Soon, it will be Robb the father."
Bran laughed.
• • •
I read the letter by the firelight of my bed chamber. "Gods," I swore quietly. Even if I didn't live in the Riverlands, I knew that Walder Frey was not to be trusted.
It was a high price as well. Two wards, a squire promised to be a knight, Arya to be married, and Rickon as well. Originally, Robb was to marry one of them, but I was already here.
The letter also asked me a question. /My mother had an idea. We would tell the Lannisters and the crown that you are our hostage. I know this must be hard for you, but it is our best chance to protect Sansa. Please, at least consider it./
I immediately wrote back that yes, of course I would. I wished that there was a way to protect Arya.
If Arya was still alive. Sansa's letter didn't even speak of Arya. I knew, somewhere in my heart, that Arya was alive. She probably escaped the castle. She might be riding towards Winterfell at this very moment.
Still the issue clouded by dreams. Ned, Arya, Sansa, Catelyn, Bran, even Rickon. All their heads on spikes, in the same order as the day I met them. The worst was Robb's death.
In my dream, they dragged me to the throne room. Joffrey was sitting on the throne. My mother and uncle were kissing at one side of the throne. The other side, Tyrion, Myrcella and Tommen were in chains.
Robb was forced into kneeling, facing me. His mouth yelled, but I couldn't hear anything. Only Joffrey's cruel laughter. They cut Robb's head off, the blood splattering me.
I screamed as Jaime was suddenly there, holding my shoulders. Tywin appeared, holding the Stark's sword, Ice. "I'm sorry Anna." Jaime said.
Tywin cut at my stomach, until a perfect circle of flesh flopped on the ground.
He shoved a hand inside my stomach, and moved it around, as if searching for something. My mother was there, then, watching me.
Tywin found whatever he was looking for, and pulled it out. It was a bloody baby. He had black hair and grey eyes, with a Stark face. His eyes were unmoving.
My mother knelt down and looked at me straight in the eye as they carried my baby to Joffrey, who I knew would hurt him.
"Dear Annablyth," she started, "In the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground." She snapped my neck, and I flopped onto the ground.
My dead eyes watched as Joffrey took out a dagger and gutted my baby. Then, everything stopped. Everyone's mouth started moving and saying the same thing. "Annablyth! Annablyth!"
I woke up sweaty.
"Annablyth!" I looked to my bedside. There was little Rickon. "I had a bad dream. Can I sleep in your bed?" I nodded, tears in my eyes.
I hugged him tightly, and soon fell asleep.
These dreams were better, filled with vague laughter and Robb, alive and well. We were riding in the forest, laughing. Then, we came upon another Robb. He was slashing at a tree. Catelyn came, and they hugged and cried together.
That was most definitely queer.