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Chapter Eight: A Wolves Wife
"Do you usually stare at trees like they might uproot and coming barreling over to assault you?" Theon Greyjoy was one of the most annoying creatures that I had ever had the misfortune to spend time with.
Reflexively, my fingers tightened until the reigns felt more like a knife then thick leather. He had snuck to the middle of the procession for the third time that day, each one growing more and more tedious with his two sided comments and slick smile. I despised men like him - men that would bed anything that didn't slap him away. My eyes narrowed as I snapped around to glare at him.
"Do you routinely chatter like an ape whenever a female is present?" I hissed back, earning a few startled looks from the men around me. My dear husband had put me smack dab in the middle of a cluster of burly men who smelled so ripe that my eyes stung every time a breeze caught me down wind.
I absolutely despised the fact that I had caught myself yearning for the smell of Robb Stark.
An easy smile was the only thing that Lord Greyjoy gave me, his eyebrows raising as if he found my attempts at warding him off to be pathetic. "Women have often told me that my chatter is quite endearing."
"They were more than likely lying," I said with falsely patient sweetness.
"I find this banter refreshing," he informed me, drawing his horse to light canter beside my own.
"I would find your departure even more refreshing."
"Normally women are more inclined to indulge me simply because of my title."
Even without the sideways glances that I was getting from the dirty brutes surrounding, I knew that I was being the most sour woman that had ever graced them. They didn't need to inform me that my silence was becoming more and more dark as each mile passed us. They didn't need to inform me that my constant glances into the deep, dark forest surrounding us was twitchy and flighty in it's manner. I was agitated because the road that we were traveling on wasn't really a road at all. We were making our way through trees, scraping through brush and rivers in - what I could only guess to be - an endless circle. And I was stormy simply due to the fact that every step of this giant beast beneath me drew an astonishing amount of pain from my sore rump and intimate part. I was in a cathedral of pain, myself being the only worshipper in the pews.
"Have you traveled many places, My Queen?" My jaw hurt from how hard I was clenching it.
"None," I gritted out, trying not to show how startled I was as a group of birds burst from the canopy above me. As the day wore on, the forest seemed to grow more sullen, slipping into a deep silence that unnerved me. The river always spoke, constantly babbling as it ran over the stone of the Twins. Here the trees gave no warning to those that were careful. It played favorites in a way that the water did not.
"None?" Lord Greyjoy was not expecting that response by his startled gaze. I frowned as one man in front of me turned to stare as if I had sprouted wings and was about to declare for us to make a nest in the branches. "There is a small village just north of the Twins and a larger town just south - surely-"
"As surely as the sun shines, Lord Greyjoy," I snapped, feeling furious at the overwhelming idea that I looked naive and small compared to these men who had traveled from North to South, Winterfell to the Iron Islands to King's Landing and now back. Being here, staring at the lavender flowers that dotted the lush grass and all the trees that looked to have their own history, I felt it. I felt stupid and childish like I hadn't seen a forest every day from the windows of the Twins.
But I hadn't needed to. My duties as the lady of the Twins had kept me firmly there. The sole time that I had ventured from it's walls had ended in bloodshed. After that I had lost my appetite for the outside world.
"I kept my father and uncles' in good health," I said, not really paying attention to the words I was speaking as I eyed a squirrel scampering down the bark of a tree. "I was in charge of organizing meetings between every member of my family, getting the kitchen staff to prepare the correct meals for every time of day, overseeing the general functions of the Twins and listening to the plight of my people. Along the a variety of smaller duties. It was time consuming and I hardly had want for the outside world."
"When did you take the mantle of your mother?" I refrained from correcting him. Cercilia Crowlin was a brittle hag of a women who liked to beat me in favor of coddling her own children and she most certainly was not my mother. She was the final women to look after the running of the Twins before it fell into my hands.
"Twelve," I sighed, growing weary of this conversation. I met his gaze with a raised brow, pursing my lips. He actually seemed to be impressed by that. "I was horrible at it," I admitted with a shrug. "The kitchen staff would bake all of the thing that I wanted because I informed them to and then a poor wrench or two would pay the price that I was not able to. My father didn't particularly favor peasant potage with fig cakes. I didn't know what to do with all the bastard babies that came to me in those first years from my servants in the Hall. I wanted them to have a home - a nice family who loved them and wouldn't slave them out. But that was a child's dream. The best I could offer them was safety. Not warmth. Not sweets and kisses when they lay on their beds. In my first two years as head of the house, I lost a lot. Mainly, the sugar drop dreams of my childhood."
Why was I being so candid with this man? My eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed. He must have a secret ability to draw things from people. My Sept had referred to it as charm. Which was an absolutely disturbing realization.
"You are a strong woman, Lady Stark." I blinked at the open compliment and the startling name. In my heart, I was still poor Willa Frey sitting on the bench in that hidden notch waiting for Corlin to slip away from one of his many sweethearts.
"I think you're mistaken," I whispered, turning my gaze forward again. "Conceding your dreams isn't strong, Lord Greyjoy. It is the weakest thing that I have ever done."
"No," he replied, his gaze unwavering as he yanked at the reigns of his horse. "Sometimes that is the strongest thing that a person can do. Humans aren't meant to live this life without a hope, Lady Stark. It takes a bigger person than I to throw away a part of themselves to give another a happier lot in life."
Before I could blinked, he was kicking his horse into a gallop, reaching the front of the procession in a matter of seconds. Something about his words had disturbed me. Perhaps the implication that I had no dreams - no hope. What did I hope for? My mind wandered over it restlessly. I barely spoke a word as Catelyn returned from her trip farther back to speak with the portly man who I had informed us of our departure from the Twins. She had called him… Cassel… Rodrik Cassel. Although I would have to check first before I addressed him again.
Restlessly, my mind roamed around that one burning question. What were my hopes? Robb Stark had won a war on dreams while I had been ferreting away spare time to simply sit and stare out my window.
"Willa Dear." I blinked, startled at the deep ocean of blue I was staring into. Robb Stark. I had been staring at him for a while apparently and he had most certainly caught me. I smug little smirk curled his lips as he eyed me, his head tipping to the side as he wheeled his horse around. I felt like I had just conceded something that I hadn't particularly wanted to.
Reflexively, my hands tightened and I was surprised to feel the sharp shards of the necklace that I had kept from my wedding night. Odd… I had thought that I had taken it off this morning.
"Willa?" Cheeks burning, I turned to Catelyn who had a secretive smile on her lips, her eyes flicking to her son and then quickly back to me. What did that look mean? "We're to stop here for the day."
"Here?" I finally glanced around, startled to see that there was a whole area with tents sets up. How had I missed that? When had that happened? My brows furrowed as they caught on the giant canvased tent in the middle, staked down and already alight with the fire that was blazing inside. It was a large meadow that had clearly been used before because of its apparent closeness to the Kingsroad which led directly to Winterfell.
"It has become safer," Catelyn was saying her eyes alight as they took in the men that were slowly dismounting and taking up strategic positions around the larger tent. "Before the war, a place like this would have been only acceptable perhaps for the Lannisters." A sudden sadness overcame her features and then it was swirling into an odd sort of fury. Had she killed anyone before Jaime Lannister? I wondered suddenly. Her hands looked so delicate, slender and untrained in the ways of a knife.
I had once heard that the Starks were a family of beasts. My brothers used to talk about them like they were mythical beings. Brandon Stark was a heavy topic. At night, when my brothers had been to consumed in their drink to notice my presence, I had listen to my uncle who had been alive for the time of dragons tell tales of the Wild Wolf of Winterfell. It was him who was meant to take the mantle from Rickard Stark. He was better at everything. He rode better. Fought better. Boasted better.
Rendal had even described him as being handsomer. He was a darling at the tourneys with a fiery temper that caused him to waver from the diplomatic duties that his house required. He was more wolf than man, I remembered my uncle whispering like even speaking his name would call him. And some days he just couldn't hide it. It tore out of him in brutal bursts and left the whole room shaking.
He had also mentioned that a lass with flames in her hair had loved him til his final breath.
"Sometimes I wonder where you're head goes to." I blinked suddenly feeling as the woman in front of me gave me a soft, curious smile. Like she was awed by me. Little, old me who hadn't lived half the sorrows that she had.
I gave her a smile in return, tugging my horse to a halt at the very edge of the camp beside her. My guards had scattered, staying near but far enough to give me the illusion of solitude. Daintily, Catelyn dismounted her shire mare, somehow keeping her skirts firmly in place. I couldn't seem to shake the fact that this small, gentle woman was handling a beast of that size. It was massive with a stocky flank and a glossy black coat.
Tenderness entered her eyes as she cooed over it's muzzle, running her fingers through the mare's long mane. My horse in comparison was minature with a frailness that only became apparent in the presence of Catelyn's beast of a horse.
"Your eyes get this…" Her brows furrowed. I was trying very hard to situate myself for a graceful dismount. "Sharper. Like you've seen something that no one else can and you're trying to strategize the best route to confront it."
"On the contrary, my lady," I laughed, finally deciding to just get it over with. My legs were shaking already so there would be no hope for a regal descent. "I've found that my rashness is my biggest downfall."
"Oh my dear!" Her laughter was ringing like the morning song of birds. "I married into foolhardiness. My baby Bran was my only sanctuary. Always quiet. Always so… considering."
I tried not to yelp as I forced myself up and out of the saddle, scrambling at the leather as my skirts caught and my legs gave out on me. I was falling. I was going to land on my rump right in front of the whole of the Stark company.
I closed my eyes and completely let go, accepting my fate with a dread that was bone-deep.
"Darling Willa." It was a smooth rumble followed by strong arms that yanked me against a hard chest. I gasped, staring up into the downturned face of my husband as he swept me closer to him with a hand around my waist and under my knees. He was strong and it was that strength that made me dizzy with a sort of wonder.
My cheeks burned as I blinked up into those eyes sparkling with amusement even as his face played at seriousness.
"Y-you-" I scowled, fury at my sudden shyness making my cheeks burn hotter. "Your Grace."
"Ah, the sweet talk so suddenly," he murmured, his words meant only for me. "Don't soften your rage, darling Willa. It doesn't become you."
"Oh, you ass," I hissed, glaring up at him as my fingers curled into the fur of his cloak.
"There it is." He was smirking again, an errant auburn curl falling into his eyes.
"You're infuriating," I gritted out, kicking my feet in an effort to shake him. He held as still as a tree, an eyebrow raising as if he was unimpressed. "Let me down."
"Will you be able to walk?"
"Of course I will, you caveman. I'm not some frail, little kitten."
"Ah, that's what you resemble. I was trying to think-"
"I am far from a kitten, you brute."
"Names hurt, kitten."
"You-" I couldn't think of anything wretched enough to call him. I was nearly spitting with fury. "Let me down."
"Ask me nicely." His teeth flashed as he let a full grin lose, his head craning closer to mine.
"Or I could simply punch you in your arrogant face," I snarled back, giving a yank at the collar of his furs.
"In front of all these people?" His eyebrows raised as if he were astonished at my gaul. Unwanted, I glanced around and quickly blanched. Catelyn was making an admirable attempt at acting like she wasn't paying attention as she went through the methodical steps for unsaddling her mare and grooming her but a secretive smile gave her away along with a few discreet glances. It was far better than the out-and-out stares that the rest of the company was currently giving me. Even his damn direwolf had plopped himself a few feet away, his head tilted as he eyed us.
I snapped back to stare up at him, mouth thinning before I gritted out, "Please… Will you let me down, my king?"
I wanted to slap that arrogant look right of his face. "A kiss would be acceptable as well."
I let out a snarl, jumping as his direwolf gave a bark in reply. I was sorely outnumbered. Curling my hands into his nape, I yanked him down to smack a kiss to his lips before crossing my arms and glowering up at him.
I hated this man.
A gasp caught in my throat as my heart gave a little jerk. Slowly, his tongue swept over his lips, his eyes holding mine in a hooded stare as he gently let my feet touch the ground, an arm keeping me loosely to his chest. I couldn't look away. Why did it feel so hot?
"It's interesting when you act like a proper lady for the benefit of my people," he murmured, his eyes still holding that darkness as they drifted down to my lips. Dumbly, I blinked up at him. An odd fire curling around my core, making my skin itch with need - a need to tug him down again and bite his lip. I blinked, reeling at the confusing new urge.
"I am a lady." Far from sounding strong, my words came out breathless, my hands splayed across the strong expanse of his chest.
Sparks flared in his eyes, his head tipping farther down as his nose brushed mine.
"No," he breathed, his words hot on my lips. "You are my wife."
"The lady," I clarified, staring intently at those lips so close to mine.
"The wife of a wolf is never a lady." He left me with only a knowing smirk, my hands still extended mid-air. I was clutching at… nothing. Nothing but that bastards shadow as he sauntered away, his direwolf loping to join him as a few men slowly collected around him.
It was utterly humiliating. Turning, I gulped down a breath. And then another as I caught Catelyn's laughing eyes over the flank of her horse. Even that mare seemed to eye me, it's eyes sympathetic. Humiliating didn't seem an adequate word to how much I wanted to sink into the grass.
Trying desperately to seem like the Queen that I had just become, I straightened my back, determined to make the long trudge to my tent in regal silence. I was able to make to steps before I stumbled, my legs unfairly frail.
"Lady Stark." I turned at Catelyn's voice, surprised to see her hand her reigns and also my horses to a young boy who was trying to discreetly eye me. Smiling almost apologetically, she rushed over. "Would you like to know where you will be staying?"
I faced a faltering smile, taking the arm that she extended gratefully. Slowly, almost as if she knew the pain that I was silently enduring, Catelyn and I wove our way past bustling tents with men and fire pits that already had animals roasting.
"Do you have any siblings?" Almost as if realizing that her question might be a bit ludicrous, Lady Stark closed her eyes. "That was a stupid question."
I was simply grateful for any sort of distract from the events of earlier. Smiling, I squeezed her arms. "I have one brother by the same mother. Many of the servants thought we were twins, for how alike we were."
"Was he very popular?" It was a wonder that she hadn't met… Well, I assumed that she hadn't needed to meet my brothers at all. They were there more for the female Freys.
"No." I gave a laugh as I recalled how revolted he had seemed when a girl had baked him tarts and then ran a hand along his face. "He took few women and was rather faithful to them. Perhaps it was his own brand of cruelty."
Catelyn blinked, looking astonished. "Cruelty?"
"When someone only looks at you - comes to you everyday and seems so… adamant in his pursuit -" I sighed, remembering the year that the garden had suddenly been filled with weeping girls - month after month, one after another as if that spot was the only one where Corlin could accurately describe to them how his feelings had faded. How he had moved on but that their time together had been enjoyable. "He would break them so easily. Like a child who had played with a toy and grown tired of its appearance. He would court them - for so long on so many occasions that our father was worried of marriage more than once - and then just… leave. Isn't that a form of cruelty if ever there were one?"
My brows furrowed as I recalled his bowed head, the way that he had rubbed at his neck almost brutally. He would always end up in my room, his head coming to rest on my shoulders. Within an hour he would be past it. It boggled my mind.
"You must have been quite the pair," she murmured.
Before I could question her on what she meant, we were stopping. I blinked, up, up, up. We were indeed in front of the largest tent in the camp. It's framing was of sturdy wood, it's cover made of thick hide of some sort - maybe an oiled canvas, I could not tell. Guards on either sides, pulled the flaps back for us, revealing a long table with a withered map on it, candles flickering on stands all around it.
I frowned as I caught sight of the auburn curls that were unmistakably my husbands. Men crowded around that table, staring intently at the roads and water that made up the planes of the North. I supposed that they were discussing our continued route to Winterfell.
Eyes raised as Catelyn and I stepped into the room, a small, polite smile playing on the formers lips and she curtsied.
It was odd - this sudden power, I mused as I met each gaze head on. I would never need to bow to another man in my life. My eyes connected with the darkness of my husbands, narrowing. I refrained from openly sneering, instead adopting a quiet contentment the belide the roiling emotions inside of me. I would have like to flounce across this room and give him a good slap.
Instead I chose to bow my head slightly, following silently after Catelyn. I could feel his gaze, hooded and unwavering until we slid behind a curtain that divided the room into two equal parts. It hid a fur-covered bed big enough for four with pelts that carpeted the floor. A basin sat to the side atop a vanity large enough to encompass a good portion of the space. It was simple with a trunk at the foot of the bed that surely held a mixture of clothes.
"This will be your space for the night," she said, gesturing to the area. "I don't know how long we will remain here - perhaps a single day or maybe a week. It all depends on what Robb deems fit." Her usual soft smile was in place as she gazed at me. "I know that these last days were hard. You can rest now. There are no meetings or duties that you must attend to."
I didn't let out my sigh of relief until she had made her departure. Through the curtain that separated me from the rest of the room, I could see the flicker of candles along with the shadows of the men on the other side along with their droning voices. I resisted a warier sigh that was building in my throat, my joints groaning as I reached back to undo my corset.
Fumbling, I dully realized that I had had a maid help me into it this morning. In that moment, I felt like bursting into tears. I would have to sleep in this god awful thing. My eyes drifted to the bed as a bone-deep tiredness crashed heavily into me.
But sleep, I would.
Dragging myself to it, I crashed down, barely able to roll a series of pillows and blankets into a barricade beside me before sleep overcame me.
"Kitten." I blinked groggily into a consuming darkness, mumbling as hands - big and strong and so gentle - tenderly rolled me to my side. Robb. I groaned, still drunk from sleep and craving more as a fingers traced along my cheek. "You were sleeping in your corset and stockings, kitten."
"I couldn't get 'em off," I mumbled, nearly weeping as my sides throbbed sweetly at the lack of bone whaling digging into my hips and breasts. My whole body ached with tiredness. Mumbling, I reached out a hand to pat his stubbled cheek before waving it to the mountain of fabric separating me from the rest of the bed. "You - on the other side."
Dark brows raised incredulously. "You've segregated me to the other side of the bed."
"Yes," I said simply, before yawning and turning to snuggle deeper into the bed. Being without a corset and stockings felt glorious. "You're dangerous."
I was asleep within seconds.
When I say that you guys are the reason that I keep writing, I really do mean it. I wanted to section out this last part for all the amazing reviews I got. You guys amaze me every time you drop me these long, funny and down-right flattering comments and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for every single word.