Chapter Three: A Feast
His gaze was absolutely piercing.
"Derwa looks like one of those snakes brought by those tricksters." Roslin tapped a finger on the table, turning with a secretive smile to me. "Remember them, sister? Those funny little men with the flutes - those snakes used to come bobbing out of those baskets-"
"I recall, Roslin," I snapped, my voice tense as I felt a trickle of sweat shiver down to dampen my collar. My younger sister blinked, clearly taken aback and for a moment guilt overwhelmed my own discomfort.
But that was quickly overcome as I felt the hot, piercing sensation of eyes running over me. Keeping my gaze down, I caught the slight shift of heavy furs. My father was saying something jovial by the tone and the King was leaning toward him to listen - but - I bit my lip, the fish on my plate staring back up at me with a sprig of rosemary and olives shoved into its mouth.
Once, when I had been very little, my brothers had taken me past the walls and bridges of the Twins and into the forests. Colin hadn't been invited - the week before my older brothers had taunted him to the point of tears. It would be two months before he was let back into their games. The only reason that I had been allowed into their little circle was because they thought it would be amusing to watch me quiver and scream when faced with wild boars and bears that they said roamed through the woods.
It was still a great source of embarrassment to admit that they had been partially correct in their assumption.
My horse had spooked.
She wa a cream beauty, used to the gentle touch of grooms and short rides around the guarded streets of the Twins. Merigold - that had been her name - she had bolted at the first sound of shrieking from the dying boar that my brothers had cornered, circling and chortling like children.
We had ended in a glade, both of us sweating and covered in dirt and leaves. And I had been in tears, my brothers calls distant as I looked around wildly. I had never felt more alone than in that moment, sitting atop Merigold with tufts of her mane clutched desperately in my shaking hands. I had barely even realized that she had begun to limp, dancing on her hooves as she tried to keep pressure off of her left hoof.
I was too distracted by the flash of red that my eyes caught across the glade.
A fox, it's eyes intent on a rabbit just to the left of us. Everything stilled as I watched it crouch, it's shoulders rolling and it's eyes narrowing and fastening onto that helpless, little animal.
It was the first time that I had ever seen the eyes of a predator.
The rest of the story goes much as I suppose people would guess. My brothers found me after I had the unfortunate luck of watching the fox shred that little rabbit into digestible bits. Merigold had been slaughtered in front of me, her shrieks echoing off the stone walls of the Twins as the groom who had brushed her day after day slowly sawed through the thick muscles of her throat. My brothers had each been heavily reprimanded by our father and had refused to speak to me for months.
Robb Stark's eyes reminded me, eerily of that foxes. Except now they were firmly focused upon me and I had the sinking feeling that they were ten times more lethal than a foxes.
"He's been staring at you for a while," Roslin whispered to me with a secretive smile, drawing me out of my reveries and back to the uncomfortable realities of this banquet. Briefly, her eyes flicked past me to where I presumed the Wolf King sat and then quickly back to me, her cheeks heating. "You should not have said what you did, sister. He looks… I do not know. I don't particularly have words for how he looks."
Roslin had never seen animal about to dig its teeth into the neck of prey.
I forced a smile, focusing all of my attention onto my sister as I resisted the urge to glance up and into the penetrating gaze of the King in the North. Was it possible for a gaze to become a living thing - for one to feel it like the touch of fingers?
"There are many things that should not have been said to the Boy King, it seems." The words were said out of extreme agitation. Lord Stark was far from a boy and I was under the sinking impression that every word spoken in his presence was taken into great consideration.
Roslin hissed out a breath, her eyes flicking down the line of our sisters and brothers in fear. "You should be more careful with your words, Willa. At least for tonight."
And with that she went back to her meal, turning a shoulder to me as she talked with our sister on her other side. I had effectively scared off one of my sisters. Thirteen more to go.
"A TOAST!" My father suddenly roared and I resisted the urge to grimace as I heard half of the men in the hall scream in agreement, grabbing the nearest serving wench and hauling her in for a kiss. My lips tightened as I caught my brothers smirk, his cheeks rosy.
Dutifully, I raised my goblet slightly, watching almost against my will from the corner of my eye as the King did the same, his movements slow. At his feet, I saw the sudden flash of movement and stiffened. How had I not seen it before? Maybe it was because of Stark's cloak, the material long and flowing to pool around his chair. Maybe it was simply because I had been too entrapped by - well, by him.
It was a great direwolf, it's eyes just as striking as its masters but of an amber hue struck through with gold. It's fur was thick and soft looking - not that I would ever have the illusion of ever getting within five feet of those vicious canines - the color of the clouds just before it rained, giving way in places for pure white. He was absolutely beautiful. So beautifully terrifying.
"Willa," Roslin hissed, her lips already on the rim of her cup and her eyes snapping with warning. I started. The toast had already been made. Fumbling slightly, I brought the goblet to my lips quickly before anyone would notice.
Someone already had.
My eyes caught his as the bitter taste of old wine hit my tongue, his clear eyes holding a sort of amused consideration that I didn't like. And as I watched, they lit and behind his glass I could see the slight tip of his smirk as he drained the last bit from his goblet. I couldn't help it.
I sent him what I hoped to be a withering glare.
"TO A WARM MEAL AND-" My father's hand shot out and our gaze was immediately broken just as he let out a surprised chuckle. In a common theme, my father was already too deep in his cup to see anything else besides a nice set of titts. He had grabbed onto the nearest thing that he could. Which happened to be a serving girl of only fourteen. Disgust ran warmly through me. "AND A GOOD FUCK!"
Sharply, I waved over another serving girl. I couldn't stop the child from being openly molested by my father but I could stop a fate far worse.
"Find Joyeuse," I whispered sharply to the maid who nodded, her eyes flicking back to watch my main table. I waited until her attention was back on me before continuing. "Tell her that her services are needed at the feast."
My lips thinned as I glanced at the tables lined before us. It seemed that one of the Stark's knights was missing. My stepmother had made it her personal agenda to serve him as much ale as he could handle before delicately extracting herself from my father's side when he had gone to relieve himself. How kind of her.
I gave the serving maid a thin smile, letting the malice and loathing that I felt seep into my voice and eyes. "Tell her that I won't be telling my father of her little...picnic with the King's friends if she gets up here in a timely fashion. She should be in the servant's stairwell. She seems to be most at home there, as of late."
The maid had gone very white at this point, her eyes wide with fright even as she gave a nod and turned to leave with a clumsy curtsy. Just then there was a loud clatter and a bellow of laughter. My fool of a brother had fallen out of his seat and was giggling like a female that had just had her first cup of wine. I rolled my eyes, grasping the serving maid's arm before she left.
"And by the Seven, bring coffee." My eldest brother was sticking his hand up another serving wench's skirt. It was becoming a fucking free-for-all. I gritted my teeth. "A lot of coffee."
"Speaking of fucking," my father roared as the thin maid scuttled away quickly. And there was that confounded burning again. I turned a harsh gaze on Robb Stark, meeting his gaze head on with a sneer. I loathed the man already and it wasn't even a night past meeting. A fine brow tipped up, that usual smirk seeming to grow as he eyed me in an appraising sort of way. "The Stark has a choice to make. Which one of my grand, wonderful daughters will you choose to sink your cock into?"
Everything went very still. Beside me, Roslin gave an excited chirp and I saw Derwa straighten in her seat with an imperious glance in my direction. There was a disgusted sort of tilt to Robb Stark's mouth as he broke eye contact with me, his fingers tightening on the table as his lips thinned, his eyes firmly on my father now who was groping the poor serving girl with viger. He looked rather smug with himself. Like a mangy old cat that had just found milk on a sill. I had never been more revolted by him in my entire life.
Taking a breath, I straightened in my seat, trying to keep all of my hatred and revulsion hidden beneath a indifferent mask. There were many to pick from. He wouldn't pick the one that was so foul as to not receive a single proposal in her whole eighteen years of life.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Joyeuse slip into the hall, adjusting her skirts and looking rather like she had swallowed something particularly foul. I caught her gaze, jerking my head in the direction of father. Men had tournaments and hunts to feel defeated about. By Joyeuse's expression, women had things much more lasting to lose.
Rising slowly from my seat, I moved quietly and quickly to my father's side, pointedly ignoring Stark as those eyes turned on me. Why was he always staring? Why did he always seeming to be calculating?
"Father," I murmured, drawing his attention to me as I gently touched his elbow. Immediately, like a snake recoiling from fire, his hands snapped away from the now silently weeping girl. For a moment, I took her in. She was small even for her age with hair the color of midnight, her blue eyes wide and beseeching. When she realized who I was, that look immediately dissolved into hatred. Had she even had her first bleeding?
"What do you want, girl?" he hissed, drawing my attention slowly back to him. Maybe my reactions were slower than usual. Maybe I was exhausted from eighteen years of having to maneuver through this world like it was filled with mines. But for just a second, I indulged in taking him in - this broken wreck of a man. He had raised a hand to me more times than I could have counted and in an odd, twisted sort of way, I loved him as a daughter should. But in an even more tangled way, I despised every breath that he took. "Speak, you dumb, little thing! I'm sure there must be some reason why you would dare-"
"Your wife," I said dully, stepping aside as I heard Joyeuse's heels clatter across the stone floors. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the serving maid carry in a couple of platters with our best cups, steam rolling up into the air. I gave him a strained smile. "And coffee."
My father stilled for a second, his hand still dangerously close to the girl's inner thigh, tucked under her messy, kitchen skirts. His other, bony, shaking hand was cupping her unimpressive breast. He looked like he was caught with a decision to make. I was obliged to help him before he made the wrong one. Reaching forward, I gently pried his hands away from the girl, smoothing her hair down as I gave her a considering once over. She would have bruises and - I grimaced - there would be marks on her neck - I could see them reddening beneath the layer of slick saliva.
"Willa dear." I glanced up at the sickeningly sweet voice just in time to see a flash of teeth as my stepmother smiled down at me from her perch in my father's lap. "Are you going to stay here all night or return to your proper seat? Maybe we should bring along your sisters to gawk at the new King as well."
Rage reddened my cheeks. Far from spreading my legs and laying down, I was brought up to be the guardian of my husbands house. I had earned my rank. My teeth gnashed together as I stared into the sullen eyes of my stepmother. My father was of noble blood and my mother was descended from royalty - she was a commoner to her very bones and would fuck anything that held some gold.
But she was my mother. Marriage and sex were what brought a female power in this world. It was a bitter concoction to swallow - even more bitter by the thought that I would never be able to use this. I didn't have the kind of disregard for personal pride as Joyeuse did.
Pressing a hand to the serving girl's back, I shooed her to the door before turning back to my father and stepmother with what I hoped to be a serene smile. I tried to ignore the disgusting amount of flesh that I was catching sight of, locking eyes with Joyeuse. "By all means, mother, if you see fit to bring my sister's forward to witness… this… then do so. I assure you that it will be of no conflict to me. Although I doubt that they will find the act any more entertaining than the last few times."
She spluttered. Luckily my father was too engrossed in getting a proper feel for her breasts than to have heard my words. Turning swiftly, I gave a quick curtsy without meeting the gaze of either Lady Stark or His Grace. If that didn't turn his attention from me then I had no clue-
"Do you usually have such a sharp tongue, Lady Frey?" The question was jarring and I blinked as I straightened, abruptly breaking the curtsy. Stormy eyes sparking through with open laughter caught me.
My eyes flicked to Lady Stark who was eyeing me with the same sort of amusement, her face gentle with open interest. I had heard that she had slit the throat of Jaime Lannister herself.
"I've found that most things that aren't sharpened over the years are dull and useless." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and inwardly I cursed myself. One of Robb's brows tipped up. Perhaps Roslin was right. I lowered my gaze. "Your Grace."
"You are quite interesting, Willa Frey." My head snapped up at the soft chuckle that slipped from his lips.
"I'm really not," I hurried to say, desperation and panic now coursing through my veins. That brow tipped up even more at my denial and I gulped.
"Not many have argued with my son since he took the head of Tywin," came a low, homely voice and I glanced to see Lady Stark smiling softly.
"I would hate to see His Grace so blatantly misled," I lied dully and the Lady laughed gleefully.
"I have thanks to give you," Lord Stark said and I was caught off guard by the sudden dashing smile that curled his lips.I eyed him suspiciously. "For your words. Earlier to your sister."
I didn't say anything, choosing instead to openly take in the King in front of me. His wolf was giving me the same pointed attention that I assumed he would give a bird that had flown too close.
I stilled. There was a sudden change to his expression that made all of my muscles tighten and a slick sweat start at my nape. Briefly, his eyes flicked to meet his mother's.
"I was wondering… Perhaps-"
"I would hate to see His Grace so blatantly misled," I suddenly blurted out, my heart beating painfully against my ribs as I stared at him. My fingers went white as they worked around each other but I held his gaze. Slowly, I worked for my next words. "That is why I say this. I must warn you… What I think of you - excuse me - What I have the sinking suspicion that you're asking-" I tried and failed to give him a smile. He was looking at me like I was some kind of unique beast that he had just found on a hunt. "I am not a flower to be picked, Your Grace. Many of my sisters - I assure you - would be perfectly enchanted by the thought of - of marrying you. I must warn you now - if you ask for my hand I will not refuse but know that for as long as you live, I will never, ever love you."
For a moment, all was still. Lady Stark had pointedly gone back to her meal and was talking with the gentleman to her left. And Lord Stark - well, I couldn't be quiet sure. His eyes were running over me with a sort of cool consideration that I thoroughly detested.
Neither of us spoke.
I had the sinking feeling - nightmare - that I would forever be stuck like this - waiting for him to summon his knights and chop off my head for being an impudent wench. Finally, he moved and I was astonished to see a smirk curl his lips.
"Are you so sure that you could never love me, Lady Frey?"
It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. It was bewildering - utterly ridiculous. Inside, I felt something wither and give a deep roar. What an arrogant ass.
"Your Grace," I said tightly, hurrying to curtsy before he could say anything else that might make me jump forward and strangle the life from him.
Nearly boiling over with rage, I stormed back to my seat.
"Willa, what in the world -" But a hush had fallen over the hall. Robb Stark had risen from his seat. My father was all but buried alive in his attention in Joyeuse. He still had that stupid smirk on his lips and briefly his eyes twinkled over at me.
"The Frey's have welcomed me into their halls with grace-"
"Here! Here!" a couple knights slurred out from the back of the hall and Robb's smirk turned indulgent.
"I have enjoyed their mead and their meal and now I think I shall enjoy their beds-"
"With which Frey?" someone howled and their was a roar of laughter until Robb raised his hand slowly for silence which he quickly earned.
"None," he said crisply and beside him, my father's attention was diverted enough for him to splutter out a protest. Before he could fully begin on his rant, Robb continued. "Today shall be a day of rest. Tomorrow, I shall announce who will be my wife."
There was that stare again. It pierced me to my very soul but I refused to indulge him. I stared adamantly forward.
"May you all rest well," he finally said in parting and there was a great clatter of chairs.
"Did he ask for your hand?" Roslin whispered to me, catching me as I stared after his broad shoulders with that great wolf beside him. Her eyes twinkled as she stared at me. "I saw him - you both. He asked for your hand didn't he-"
"No, Roslin," I murmured crossly, sliding from my seat. "He asked for something far worse."
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