Chapter 32

It was as if she were watching everything around her from up above. Looking but not seeing, not feeling. The air was hot and stuffy, a far cry from the rain pouring outside the twins. Perhaps it was because of the crowded room that it felt so overwhelmingly hot but she could not help it.

A strange feeling erupted in her stomach, as though she had been here before, had seen this room before. She glanced around it, watching the feast go by as men and women drank and ate and the bride and groom gazed at each other happily.

"Everra?" Robb asked, concern evident on his face.

Everra jumped in her chair, turning to look at him. He looked happy and handsome, his face wholesome as he gazed at her. I've been here before she realised. When? She thought relentlessly, for the life of her she could not figure it out.

She plastered a smile on face as she stared at him, though the feeling did not fade away.

"I'm fine Robb," she said and before Everra could even comprehend what she was doing she grabbed onto his hand and squeezed it gently under the table. She couldn't prevent herself from doing so, she could think and speak but her actions were not her own. The action had simply felt natural.

"It is unwise for a Lady to lie to her King," Robb said playfully, his blue eyes shining.

"It is even more unwise for a King to accuse a Lady of lying," she retorted and Robb let out a loud laugh at that, before glancing down at her lips for a few moments too long to be considered friendly.

"No," she protested, shifting a few inches away from him. They had had conversations about this before they arrived. She had warned him not to draw suspicion. "You'll provoke him."

The male she was talking about was a crusty, old, wrinkly man who had been leering at her since they had arrived. Robb frowned at her, his blue eyes looking slightly troubled before he nodded and leaned back in his chair.

Everra observed the room once more and though she could not see anything amiss, that cold fear still lingered in her bones. Everra picked up her fork and placed a bite of stringy meat in her mouth and chewed it slowly, the rhythm calming her nerves. Nothing is wrong, she thought. The feeling of her watching from above had begun to fade and now she felt a though her actions were fully her own.

"Your grace," Walder Frey crowned, his voice thin but loud, "the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been said and your uncle is now married to my daughter, but they are not man and wife yet. Shall the bedding commence?"

Robb was looking at the old man carefully, his tone even as he responded, "Yes, Lord Walder. There is no wedding without a bedding ceremony."

The men around them laughed in delight and rose from their chairs to the frightened looking Roslin. Her eyes were large and round like a deers and her bottom lip looked as though it were trembling. Everra watched impassively as they tore at her clothes, laughing all the while, watched as they slowly exited the feast and exchanged meaningful glances with Catelyn.

The men returned shortly after, red faced and laughing. Everra nearly rolled her eyes at their antics but stopped when Robb sent a warning glance her way.

She shook her head at him, a warm feeling spreading to her heart as she did so. She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on a pair of men in the corner, looking impassive and her heart sank in her chest.

She stood from her chair abruptly, causing it to slide back loudly. Robb cast her a surprised look and exclaimed "Everra what—"

"I'll be back," she replied numbly.

The fear inside her was growing as one of the men took notice of her staring at them and cast a terse glance at Walder Frey, before moving towards the door.

The sound of the drums quietened for a moment, until all she could hear was the sound of her heart pounding in her chest as she walked forward quickly.

Your being irrational, her mind whispered, there is nothing wrong.

It was then the song— the song of the lions, of their enemies began to play and that was when she knew the truth. The Rains of Castemere.

She caught up to the man in a few terse strides— a Frey she realised now— and yanked on his arm roughly, a shot of ice running to her heart at the feeling of cold metal beneath his clothes.

"Robb!" she exclaimed, as she slapped the Frey so hard his mouth bled. He pushed her aside roughly, running out of the room.

And who are you? The proud Lord said, that I must bow so low.

Robb leapt from his chair at her shriek but let out a shout of his own as an arrow pierced through his leg and then another in his arm and he was shoved to the ground by Jon. Chaos had erupted in the room now— she caught a glimpse of Greatjon shoving a knife in a Frey's throat, caught a glimpse of blood splattering on the floor.

Jon ripped pulled a table on top of Robb to shield him from the onslaught of arrows that were still being pelted his way and Everra suddenly felt a burning feeling in her back as she crumpled to the ground. Northmen and Bloodmen slowly but surely fell to the ground, dead.

Robb, her mind whispered as she looked around wildly, still laying stomach first on the ground, I need to get too him.

She crawled forward, her back burning, unnoticed by the murderers as she crawled towards Lord Walder. She heard the distant sound of a wolf howling and could hear the sound of Andromache's cries. Her heart ached at the wounded cries. Why didn't we insist in bringing all of you here?

And so he spoke, and so he spoke. That Lord of Castamere and now the rains—

She nearly missed it— the feeling of her hand grasping around the short knife. There were only a few men fighting now and she couldn't see whether or not Jon was still standing. She didn't want too.

She forced herself forward, until she was close enough to catch a glimpse of Lord Walder's wife beneath the table, cowering and crying. Her heart burned in her throat as she tightened her grip around the knife, a fierceness ripping through her. She forced herself forward, ignoring Walder Frey's chuckles.

She dragged the girl out of the table by her hair, ignoring her whimpers of pain and fright as she pressed the knife tightly to her throat.

"Lord Walder enough!" she pleaded, her heart in her throat.

Let Robb live, please, she begged internally. I've done enough in my lifetime, I'm a monster but he isn't. She was afraid for him, not herself.

He seemed to ignore her, his eyes staring intently at something behind her, a cruel and triumphant smirk emerging on his wrinkled face.

"The King in the North arises!" he croaked, letting out a laugh as he casually sipped a glass of wine.

Everra did not look back at Robb even though she yearned to. She wanted to rush to him and see whether or not his heart was still breathing, she wanted to see whether or not his blue eyes were still filled with life.

"Let it end!" She yelled, her desperation bursting through the seams. "You have repaid betrayal with betrayal. Let it end. Please."

His gaze was focused on her now as he looked at her indifferently.

"Let Robb go," she continued, pleading, begging, "Let him go and I swear we will forget this. By all the gods that exist in this world we. . . we will take no vengeance. I swear it."

Lord Walder looked at her cruelly, his eyes indifferent to her pleas, "He was planning to break his word to marry you! He swore by all the gods that he would marry my daughter!"

Her heart burst in her chest at his words, her frustration and desperation causing angry tears to trickle down her face.

"Take me for a hostage!" she yelled pleadingly, "Marry me! I. . . I will give you children and. . . and even more wealth then you can imagine, just let Robb go!"

Lord Walder glared at her in mistrust, though she could see a gleam in his appearing.

"You would do this just to save his life?" he asked her.

She nodded furiously, hope beginning to blossom in her chest, "Any price or thing you want name it, just let him go."

She turned to look at Robb, whom had crawled out from under the table and was crouched beside two dead bodies. As if she felt his gaze on him, his head turned to look at her and even though his heart was still beating his blue eyes held such utter defeat and lifelessness that he may as well have been dead. When his head turned, Everra caught a glimpse of whom the corpses were. The pale, lifeless faces of Jon and Catelyn, bloodied and bruised were staring at the ceiling.

Pain ripped through her chest as she gazed at Jon for a few seconds, before she snapped her gaze back to Robb's.

"Robb get up!" she screeched, tears streaming furiously down her face, "Get up and walk out! Please."

He forced himself up onto his legs, small noises of pain exiting his throat.

"Everra. . ." he murmured, "No . . ."

Everra's heart shrunk in her chest as Lord Walder snorted loudly at Robb's words.

"Why would I let him leave when he clearly does not want to live?"

Everra turned to look at him, a coldness that made her name feared across the lands growing in her veins as she pressed the knife even more tightly to the woman's throat.

"On my blood as a Westerosi, on my blood as an Essosi let him go or I will cut your wife's throat."

The next few moments where the most torturous of her life. Her heart pounding in her chest, the drums still sounded, boom doom boom doom. Please, she pleaded, please. His lips breathed in and out as Everra stared him down, the knife slippery in her grasp.

" A lover for a lover," he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

His impassive and triumphant eyes met hers, "I'll find another."

"Everra," Robb whispered faintly.

Everra's head whipped back to look at Robb as a man— Roose Bolton, she realised, stalked up to Robb, clad in black armour and shoved his knife in his heart and twisted.

Robb may have broken his vow but Everra kept hers. She tugged at the woman's hair and cut her throat until she felt bone. Blood ran all over her fingers, making the knife slip onto the ground.

Tears burned down her face as she stood there limply, her insides burning with agony as she waited. Make it end, she pleaded. She tore at her face— more beautiful than any he had ever seen, Robb said— and felt the blood trickle down her face and into her mouth.

"Mad," she heard someone say, "Just like her father."

Mother make it stop, she pleaded, please mother make it stop it hurts.

She felt someone tug at her hair and a smile grew on her lips as she felt the cool knife against her throat. It's bite was cold and the blood was warm and as she was dying she thought, blood must have blood.

Robb felt her begin to shake beside her. At first he thought she was shivering in her sleep but then it gradually became more violent, her murmuring growing louder and louder though the words she spoke were still incoherent.

"Everra," he said, alarmed.

She didn't wake and instead continued to shake violently and it was then that Robb noticed her wounds. Though they were small Robb knew they had not been treated for a few days now and cursed himself for his stupidity.

"Help!" he yelled, grabbing onto her shoulders to try prevent her from shaking.

No one came. He looked around helplessly, knowing that no one would dare come near the tree whilst they were there. He looked at her shaking body once more, before hesitantly standing. He cast her one last look of concern and just as he had taken a few strides in the other direction, he paused and ran back to her. He scooped her sleeping form up into his arms and carried her away from the tree bridal style.

He walked quickly, Everra bouncing in his arms slightly with each stride. He followed the directions the knight had given him to get there but his brain was muddled and confused, his steps lagging under him.

He ran forward, his grip on her tightening and his heart leapt in relief as he caught sight of on old man with a grey cloak, like Mester Luwin's.

The Maester seemed to catch sight of him at the same moment and when he saw whom was in his arms he came over quickly, urging him to put her on the wooden stretcher nearby.

"What's wrong with her?" Robb asked worriedly, his eyes not leaving her unconscious form.

The Maester glanced at him, once, twice, something akin to suspicion and surprise lingering in his old, wise eyes, "I must examine her. . . " his voice trailed off, uncertain.

"Your grace," Robb supplied carelessly and he glanced up to look at the Maester after he had failed quiet.

The look he sent him was one of shock, as if what he said was incomprehensible.

"What you did was not wise," Catelyn said, her blue eye's staring him down.

Robb glanced at her, his brow's furrowing as he did so.

"What do you mean?" He asked, though he had inkling he did know what she meant.

"You can not go around carrying her in front of all you Lords to see Robb. They people will start talking—"

"The people talk from the Narrow Sea to Slaver's Bay to Lannisport mother, if everyone was to believe what the people said the world would be an even scarier place."

Catelyn glowered at him, her blue eyes sharp.

This was later on in the day, after the sun had begun to set and the bodies of the dead had begun to burn and others buried. Robb had seen Jon later on after Everra had been whisked away, had seen the sorrow in his brothers eyes and could still feel the shiver that had crept up his spine.

He had been there when they lowered his love into the ground, the handmaiden that had been with Everra when she had first been to Winterfell. The girl with the yellow hair whom he had not cast a second glance but whom his brother had loved fiercely.

"Except these aren't petty rumours," Catelyn told him, "These whispers have grain's of truth in them. You were reckless—"

"You seem to be eager to use that excuse for everything now, mother. Are you now going to lock me away in a cell in order for me to be less reckless?" He snapped, his patience thinning.

His mother drew back from him, her cheeks red. From shame or anger he did not know but she looked as though he had struck her.

"It would seem your forgiveness seems to stretch only to her and not your mother," she said stiffly.

Robb gazed at her for a few moments, his eyes tightening, "I haven't forgiven either of you."

Catelyn quirked an eyebrow at him and spoke, "Haven't you? And what now, your going to kill her for her treason? You could not—"

"I understand her," Robb cut her off abruptly, his words firm, "And understanding is quite a lot more important than forgiveness."

"Do you understand why I did what I did?" She asked him softly, her blue eyes just like his own.

"Yes," he replied, after a beat, "That doesn't mean I forget."

She winced at his words and took a few steps forward, though they were gentle and careful as if she did not want to provoke him.

"I did it to keep you safe," she told him and for a moment it was almost as if they were back in Winterfell, back when he was still a boy with a father and had no blood on his hands. He would have smiled at her then, been a little cross but forgive her all the same.

As time would have it however, he was no longer that boy.

He was a king.

"I know mother," he meant it as well, "But if you ever do something like that ever again I will never let you walk around without a guard at your heels, even at Winterfell. Even if what you did was out of love."

His mother glanced down at the floor solemnly and Robb walked around her towards the door, his heart heavy in his chest. He yearned to take back his words, to comfort her and apologise for he knew his mother had too much grief but he did not and instead left the room with a heavy heart.

"The other host lead by Lord Umber is going well as they prepare for the siege on Casterly Rock," Roose Bolton told him, "By now all those in Westeros have heard of Stannis's sound defeat, especially Tywin Lannister. The only people still fighting are us and them."

Robb glanced at him briefly, his mistrust flaring inside of him, though he was careful not to show it.

"We need time to replenish our resources," Robb said, his voice echoing across the room, "If we do indeed manage to take Casterly Rock, we may not be able to hold it for long. This battle took a hard toll on our resources my lords."

Some nodded, others looked sceptical.

"Your grace forgive me but are you suggesting we do not lay siege on Casterly Rock?" Bolton asked, his tone even.

Robb frowned down at the map and grabbed a hold of one of the landmarks.

"Now that both Stannis and Renly have been defeated," Robb started before clearing his throat, "Now that only us and the Lannister's are left, we have one chance to defeat them for good. One."

He dragged the landmark to Kings Landing and continued, "The Lannister's know that the best chance they have of defeating us is in the field but they will be wary to leave King's Landing, their safe haven. They still outnumber us and we do not have the ships to travel to King's Landing and be done with the war. If the Lannister's manage to win over the Tyrells— which I assume they will sooner or later—, we will be largely outnumbered and the chances of us winning this war will plummet. We need every man we have and with the losses here. . ."

He didn't have to say it, the look on his Lords faces said enough.

"Perhaps we can send a raven to Balon Greyjoy," a Lord suggested, "Send his son Theon to ask his father—"

"No," Robb said loudly, "Don't ever trust a Greyjoy my father told me. Balon Greyjoy is still bitter from his defeat all those years ago. If he sense any time to strike, he will seize it and chances are the first place he would attack is Winterfell."

All the Lords nodded in agreement, muttering the same sentiments.

"The Martells?"

Robb froze for a moment, frowning.

"The Martells have hated the Stark's ever since King Robert's rebellion," Robb pointed out, "They think that it's our fault Elia Martell died."

"They hate the Lannister's more," Maege Mormont pointed out, "Perhaps they will answer if we call."

"And perhaps they won't," Robb retorted, "We will have to offer them something in return for their service. I can not offer my hand, as I have already pledged myself to another. My sister Sansa is still betrothed to Joffrey and Arya is promised to one of Walder Frey's sons. Dorian Martell only has a son and Oberyn has no highborn daughters for Bran or Rickon, only baseborn."

"What if whom we offered for a hand in marriage wasn't a Stark?" Lord Bolton asked, his face taunt.

A shot of ice ran to Robb's heart as he froze, his shoulder's stiffening.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Bolton?"

"If Lady Everra agrees and we get to discuss it with her once she has recovered from her injuries, we could suggest her hand, your grace. She is the head of a great house, is quite beautiful and was willing to pledge herself to Loras Tyrell. She is of age as well, your grace. It would be a great match."

Robb felt his insides bristle at the thought and inwardly cursed himself for it and had to force himself not to punch Roose Bolton in the mouth.

"Between her and which Martell?"he asked, his voice sounding slightly off even to his own ears.

"Perhaps Oberyn Martell?" The older man suggested, "He seems to want vengeance for his sister and he knows that Tywin Lannister ordered the death of her and her children."

Robb nodded though his insides were churning, anger and annoyance flooding through his veins.

Calm yourself, he commanded and stood their quietly for a moment before nodding, "Yes, I believe you are quite right. It would be a great match indeed."

It was a weird feeling, Robb noted, to understand someone's actions and not agree with them.

He thought of his mother and Everra and could feel his insides tighten at the thought of them plotting together. It was as if he were both hot and cold at the same time, as if he had one foot in a desert and another beyond the wall. Uneven and drastically different.

The guilt he felt from what happened a few weeks before had not faded, the dark whispers in the back of his mind were still there. He looked around the lavish room with its peculiar coloured walls and sighed. Grey wind seemed to sense his frustration and bounded towards him, nuzzling his head on Robb's hip. Robb glanced down at his closest companion and patted his head gently.

He seemed to be the only one whom had not betrayed him in any way.

It was well long into the night and it seemed to Robb that he was the only one in the castle still awake. A candle burned brightly in his chambers and Robb remembered the flushed Lord Yulian whom had brought him here and explained that he was the last of Everra's banner men. He hadn't called her Everra of course and Robb was slightly amused at his evident fear and admiration of his liege lady.

He then remembered the conversation him, Jon and Theon had had once in Winterfell all that time ago. How Theon had told him of the Blood Feast and how he was most likely to be betrothed to her by the time their stay had ended.

Robb cursed himself now for not agreeing, for being such a fool. If he had agreed to marry her then, he wouldn't have to marry a Frey and she would not have to marry anyone else.

Shame burned through him as he remembered their time together. As he remembered the feeling of her touches and kisses and how she felt.

I could marry her he thought, I should marry her.

Robb did not even want to contemplate the truth of his desires, he knew that she would not hear of them, would not allow them to be heard, to be voiced.

Always doing the thing that needs to be done, he thought bitterly and then cursed himself for his childishness.

The night seemed to be long and restless, he thought and then promptly blew out his candle, leaving him and Grey Wind swallowed in darkness.

Darkness blinded her. It was as if she were in an endless pit of darkness that swallowed her whole and she felt as though she were falling, deep down to her doom.

She did not scream aloud but she felt tempted too. She opened her eyes, once, twice, though she was still blinking in darkness.

A hand touched her shoulder and though she felt alarmed she did not show it. She suddenly felt as though she were standing on solid ground and nearly fell back from the abrupt change.

"Where am I?" she asked calmly.

She knew who it was.

"I'm not sure, my lady," the old woman replied, her voice sounded even more older and wary than before.

Everra turned around to look at the woman and could faintly see the outline of her hunched body.

"Why am I here?" she asked instead.

"Your injured," the older woman replied simply, "I came to visit you. Now that your home it will be even harder to do so unnoticed."

Everra stiffened slightly as she realised that Robb was never supposed to find out the truth.

"If you wish for me to explain myself—"

"No need," the older woman told her, waving her hand in the darkness, "Chances are if I were in your position I would have done the same."

Everra nodded, though her eyes were still guarded more than usual.

"You have made progress," the older woman noted, clasping her hands together— or at least Everra thought she did, it was hard to tell— "Stannis is dead."

Everra frowned at her words and spoke, "The Red witch isn't."

"She will be sooner or later," the older woman replied, "I'll make sure of it."

Everra quirked an eyebrow at the woman but did not say anything.

"Your relationship with the Stark boy has changed as well," she noted lightly and for a moment it sounded as though she were amused.

Everra stiffened at the words but spoke quickly, "It was once. It will never happen again."

The older woman sighed softly and it sounded sorrowful and heavy, as though she dreaded to tell her something.

"I'm afraid it might have too, my lady," she told her gravely, "The old fates seem to dislike you very much."

"The old fates?" Everra asked quietly.

"The fates which decided that the young wolf lost," she replied calmly.

"Oh," Everra said, her voice contemplative, "You are the new fate."

It wasn't a question.

"They were responsible for your dream," the older woman continued on as if she had never heard her speak in the first place.

A chill immediately shot through Everra's spine as she remembered the warmth of her blood trailing down her throat, the agony that had ripped through her heart and tore it into shreds. That much emotion scared her— though she pained to admit it.

Everra looked forward into the darkness and briefly wondered how long it seemed to stretch out. She could not even see one step in front of her.

She scanned her horizons and frowned at the small beam of light that began to appear far from her eyes.

"Our time is over my lady," the old woman said.

Everra frowned and turned to the source of her voice, "You said that the old fates did not like me— what did you mean by that? Why will I have too—"

"You will find out sooner or later my lady," the old woman cut off, "For my sake I'd prefer it be later."

The light was reaching them now, blinding in all its glory.

"Tell me—"

She was gone.

And Everra sighed and stepped forward into the light, shielding her eyes.

Everra could feel the softness of her pillow beneath her. Could feel her silk sheets and furs wrapped around her, encasing her in warmth. It was comfortable and it was familiar and she recognised her childhood chambers before she even opened her eyes.

When she did, she did it slowly, preparing herself for the pain light to blind her eyes. She squinted as she looked around her chambers and felt a small sense of relief that nothing had changed in the year since she had left.

She shifted backwards on the bed, leaning against her pillows so that her back was straight and shifted slightly in discomfort. Her muscles ached all throughout her body and she could feel freshly stitched wounds on her arms and legs but remembered that none of them were too serious. She was still alive and for the most part, uninjured.

The same could not be said for many of her soldiers however but before she could think more about it Andromache jumped on the bed and nuzzled her head against her stomach.

Surprisingly enough, it was more comforting than painful and so Everra relaxed herself and stroked her loyal friend calmly.

She could hear voices outside her chambers, a man and a woman and she frowned at the sound.

Perfect, she thought, rubbing at her eyelids.

Andromache purred in protest at her stopping her petting but Everra merely scowled down at her and did not continue.

She fingered the furs that were wrapped tightly around her and at Andromache's pout she gently stroked her chin, watching the door closely.

She could hear their voices grow closer and was relieved to hear that they were not raised in anger, merely in polite conversation. She recognised the one, Maester Liwin but she could not place the females.

She glanced towards the open window but could see no sign of the rest of the castle from the angle she was sitting. She sighed loudly but chose to lay in bed for a few moments more.

The door swung open at that moment and Everra turned her head to face them.

No.

A shot of ice ran to her heart as she looked at the female and her heart suddenly began to beat more wildly in her chest. A strangely warm, fierce feeling began to unravel in her stomach as her features hardened.

The girl had long brown hair pulled back into a messy braid, had a long, thin nose that suited her face well with large, round eyes that were the shade of wood. Her skin was clear of scars and other marks and she was clearly exotic, though Everra already knew that. Her lips were thin and pink and her teeth were straight and her body curvaceous, easily susceptible to have children, though Everra already knew that.

It was not hard to see why Robb had fallen for her the first time.

This, she knew, would be the hardest threat she would ever have to face.

Because the girl standing in front of her was no ordinary girl, she was the girl who caused the right side to lose the first time. Who let him do the wrong thing.

Because the girl standing in front of her was Talisa Maegyr.

A/N DUN DUN DUN! THANKS FOR THE RESPONSE TO LAST CHAPTER GUYS! IT WAS AMAZING AND AWESOME, LIKE U GUYS. Okay, time to answer a few questions.

marvelmyra: I believe your question was answered in this chapter but if I'm wrong, then Robb has not forgiven her but now he understand's her which I think in this world is more important.

Saint River: First, it's good to have you back! I hadn't heard your comments in a while and I've found them to be a reliable source of guidance. To answer your question, if you look at a map of Westeros you will see the Eyrie facing the narrow sea but slightly to the left and slightly upwards is a land with no names and with a lot of mountains that face the three something. I can't remember what. So basically, the Bloodlands are that small patch of land to the left and above of the Eyrie. Hope that helps.

Also, to the rest of you: RosexxScorpiusxx I'm glad you gave this story a shot and that you've enjoyed Everra's journey so far. I look forward to hearing more from you. Thanks for your support.

To Sapphire1998 : I'm glad you enjoy their relationship. It's been hard for me to write convincingly and I'm glad that people enjoy it. Thanks :)

And to all the rest of you, thank you so much. Please continue to tell me your thoughts.

Until next time,

Fiona Kevin073

P.S. I think this story is coming to an end in about 10-15 chapters maybe less :( but It will be awhile until we reach that epilogue! Hope you guys stick with me until then.