I wanted to just say thank you to everyone who's stuck around and supported me through my absence. it means a lot that people are willing to wait for these updates. Hope you enjoy
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Mouth of the Beast
Beneath my knees, the stone floors of the Vale bit through the half-soaked folds of my dress. It was a simple one, thrown on with nary a thought in my haste to get dressed and to Robb. Robb. My heart beat hard and fast against my ribs, pain jetting through me with every squeeze. Robb would help me.
"Help me find your master," I whispered to Grey Wind, releasing his face as he gave a soft grunt. His eyes burn gold, assessing me in a way that reminds me of our meeting with the Goddess of Chaos only moments before. We share a secret, he and I, and I can't help but feel that that is the beginning of my end.
Grey Wind is fast. My slippers slap against the freshly cleaned stone floors as I try to keep up with him, his nose sniffing at the air for only a second before he darts around another corner. Is this how he got his name, I wonder. Is this part of what made people whisper his title in the Great Hall, making him more myth than legend?
"My lady-" I don't stop. Not caring that Lysa Arryn and her weasel of a husband will know about my odd behavior in a matter of moments. Our time here in the Vale is over. There is no more time for games.
My throat dries to sand, something prickling and frightening starting to press at the back of my eyes. The honesty of that statement is so terrifying that I'm tempted to stop - tempted to turn around and lock myself into my room. The tragedies and horrors of Westeros are sung about, whispered to you as a child but I could feel the whimsical appeal starting to leech away at those edges. Robb's life was already a story, mine a mere footnote at the edge of his: the woman that the King of the North had been conned into marrying, one of the children of Walder Frey, a leech and bastard of his own right.
But that could change today. My fingertips burned, scraping across a particularly jagged patch of the wall as I pressed past some guards, their eyes following me. Today we could die in the great hall just above and they would sing of our butchering around the tables at night.
Grey Wind halted his ears pricking this way and that. We had darted out into a courtyard, the mountains an ominous shadow just beyond the fall of snow and wind. It was a round area, circled by the impressive bulk of the Vale, a stable just on it's other side. From the number of lightly clad men milling around, it had to be used for training.
"Your highness," a cluster of young guards murmured, dipping into jerky bows. Their eyes took in the crumpled piece of parchment clenched in my white-knuckled grip, the way my hair was still damp and wild from a bath where I had done little more than shiver and freeze.
"Yes, but-" Two words. That's all it took to pick him out from the throng, his deep voice centering in a way that made my eyes prickle with tears. He would know what to do. The edges of the letter crinkled a little more between my fingers.
Grey Wind's eyes darted to me, his tail dipping slightly as he circled me, hsi teeth flashing at a few who drifted a bit too close to where I stood. "Thank you," I whispered, dragging a hand along his flank before I darted to where my husband stood, his back turned to me as he talked quietly and quickly with a group of some of his advisors.
Snow crunched beneath the thin slippers, soaking the satin material within moments. Even in an area filled with men taller and sturdier than him, there was something that drew your eyes immediately to Robb Stark. Maybe it was the way that he looked like he was outlined with charcoal sticks, as if the Gods had birthed him into this world from ash and dirt. Or maybe it was the way that his hair curled around his ears and temple, so at odds with the broad slope of his shoulders and heavy furs.
Theon was the first to see me, his light eyes luminous against the white of the snow and sun all around us. His head tipped to the side as if he were seeing something altogether disturbing and yet intriguing, taking in the cold rivulets of water still dripping from my hair down my throat. I shivered, everything was wet and cold. His brows furrowed before slipping back to Robb, cutting him off mid sentence. "Robb."
Immediately, four pairs of eyes swiveled to me, the other two men once that I had seen briefly at the beginning of our journey to Winterfell. The latter two were older, one taller and thinner while the other had a mass of grey beard, his eyes crinkled by too many days spent out in the sun.
It was Robb who my eyes swept to though, my attention dragged to him with the force of a line being tugged from the sea. He took my breath away. Even with the sting of the night before still present, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by him all over again.
His eyes which were usually bright with mirth eyed me warily now, dragging over the strained tilt of my lips, the stiffness in my shoulders. Eventually that wariness gave way to concern, his shoulders hunching as he stepped closer to me, cutting the other men off from my line of sight as his body cocooned me in. "You look like you've just been dragged from a fight with a sea creature."
An invisible hand crushed down on my windpipe. If only he knew how close he was. Words flitted across my mind, trying to form into a coherent sentence, trying to be more than a jumble of half-truths and desperation. Eventually I gave up, silently shoving the crumpled piece of paper at him.
His eyes held me for a moment longer, his lips parting as his face tensed with understanding. Understanding that whatever was about to come would be near-catastrophic to the fragile truce we held in the Vale.
It only took a short moment for him to scan over the contents, his eyes burning into the paper as if his will alone would light it on fire. Anger rolled off of him in quiet, scorching waves. He had never liked Baelish, I had known that from the moment he had had to sit across from him at dinner and watch him simper over Catelynn Stark. That made the few short lines written by my brother believable but unwelcome.
"Who sent this?" A shiver raced up my spine, sending every hair standing on edge. His voice had dropped to a deadly murmur, those burning eyes finally slipping to meet my own. They had darkened to deadly blue, so dark that I had thought for a moment that they had swept to gray.
"Corlin," I whispered but the words cracked, tearing from me and I winced, tearing my eyes away from the way that he was staring at me. Like he understood. Like he was wishing that he could stop whatever was about to eat me alive. "My-my brother."
Robb didn't pause. He whipped around, that small piece of paper passed to Theon without a second thought. Quietly, he whispered to the three, leaving me oddly apart from them - a shadow at the edge of their group. Theon's brows furrow, becoming severe strikes across his face as he stared down at the letter. What must they think? Would they take it seriously? They had to-
The taller of the two other men stepped forward suddenly, his eyes grave as he clasped Robb's forearm. "May the Gods be with you."
A smirk curled my husband's lips, the expression not reaching his eyes. "They're always with me, Basin."
With that, he turned, not bothering to say a farewell as his fingers curled around my hand and tugged me along behind him. His grip was strong and warm, jarring against the chill of my own. Last night, I had thought I would never see him. I gulped, suddenly queasy at the memory. Bile burned the back of my throat, making me unsteady as he slipped back into the halls of the Vale.
"You're not going to question me?" The words slipped from me against my will. I flinched as Robb's eyes snapped to me, his stride barely broken as he tugged me along. I licked away the dryness of my lips. "About my brother? About whether he can be trusted?"
I searched his gaze, wanting to find something to fight against, something to ignite the indignation that I had felt so acutely last night. Instead I just felt hollow like a bucket that had been tipped over. I had told him how little I trusted his family, how suspect I found Sansa's continued loyalty. That gave him full-right to question my own blood.
But as I searched his eyes, there wasn't any of my own venom. No. Robb had fought a war to save his family. In many ways, he was dark, driven to the point of being brutal to meet his own ends. He would be the last person to question blood.
"No, Willa," he whispered, stopping suddenly in front of a closed door. His eyes held mine as he turned, my head automatically tipping back to keep that gaze. "I understand why you question my family like you do - especially Sansa. But you won't find those questions in me. I trust my blood. Perhaps to a fault… It's the only thing I've been able to hold onto through these years."
Somehow that made me want to cry - something so pure coming out of someone like Robb. Someone who my brothers used to scare my sisters with at night, the threat that the King of the North would tear out their hearts and eat it with a glass of their blood.
Soft light spilled from the room as we slipped inside, shutting the door tightly to the chaos of the hall. Catelyn looked up from where she sat with Sansa, both of their heads bent together as they talked quietly. The fire light caught strands of their hair, lighting it to a dancing flame. The older woman's eyes scanned over us once, twice, her brow furrowing further and further as she took a particularly long time on my appearance.
"Robb," Sansa grinned. It was the first time I think I had ever seen her truly look happy and it took my breath away.
Catelyn stood, startling her daughter. "What's happened?"
Darkness shadowed Robb's eyes, his shoulder hunching. Heaviness beat down on me. Was this the life of a king? The life we were meant to live? Would we never be able to get a breath in?
His rough fingers curled through mine, tightening for a moment before he released me. "Willa's brother sent word. For some reason, the Freys sent him and a small party to Dreadfort."
A sharp breath hissed through Catelyn's teeth, her eyes going wide for a moment. Even Sansa took heed, standing slowly from her seat. The Bolton's had always been a fixture of terror and mystery in my world. Wives had been falling mysteriously to death since I could remember and that in itself was tantalizing. Some of my sisters found it alluring to imagine taming a monster such as Roose and his remaining son. A chill ran through me at the memory of sweet Domeric and his bruises. I didn't find it alluring. I found it terrifying.
Catelyn's eyes searched me out. "Why would they do such a thing?"
I felt a swell of bile rise in my throat. I had never taken the tales of the Bolton's darker hobbies for truth. The feud between the Starks and Boltons had been around when I was small but so had many other ones. As a Frey, we kept our peace. We stayed out of conflict. And if that meant Walder had to wed all of his children to each lord and lady in the North and South then so be it.
"I-" I searched for words, wanting to explain this but finding it so lacking in the face of a family like the Starks. I had never thought that this way of life was wrong. It kept all of us safe. The children of Walder Frey sacrificed but it was even, each of us giving a little so that all would prosper. In that way, it seemed honorable. A chill prickled at my nape. But not a whole party. Not a whole party to be slaughtered. Corlin's shaky handwriting flashed through my mind once more. "It was meant to be a simple journey. One of our sisters was betrothed to Roose Bolton - all they needed to do was take her there and stand vigil until her marriage was confirmed."
Bile tickled the back of my throat at the meaning of my words. They were to wait until the wedding night, wait until they saw her blood on that sheet. Sansa's eyes flashed a harrowing blue in the firelight and Robb's jaw tightened, his disdain for the tradition obvious.
Robb's voice was deep, gravel roughened as he lifted his eyes to his mother again. "It gets worse. Corlin hasn't seen the rest of his party for a few days. He fears the worst and-"
He stopped, his jaw working and I watched as his eyes swirled with winter clouds, silently taking in his mother's expression. He didn't know how she would react because of her relationship with Baelish.
"And." I sucked in a breath, catching the jerk of Robb's head as I started to speak. "He's written that Lord Baelish was part of the attempt on our party."
The scarlet-haired woman's head snapped to the side, her whole body stiffening at the words. Beside her, Sansa drew in a sharp breath. "Baelish?"
Hesitantly, I nodded. My knowledge of Lady Stark's relationship with Littlefinger was slim. I knew the tales but so did everyone else. In this world, stories were as numbered as hairs. Bards made a living off of lords and ladies alike.
Sansa's eyes slowly drifted to mine, an unknown emotion tightening her lips. "I… there have been messengers from the Boltons. I've seen their banners more times than I can count in these months. I had thought they were just standard correspondences…"
My stomach sank. Perhaps a part of me had hoped…
Catelyn's nostrils flared, her eyes showing something wild as she turned away, her whole body stiffening as she gazed into the fire.
"We could leave-" Sansa started, her whole body jumping at the prospect.
Robb's curls jumped as he shook his head. "The Vale isn't a place easily left. And if the Baelish wants us to stay…"
"Then we wait it out," Sansa whispered, her shoulders rising at the idea, her eyes shutting warily. "Play along until we have them in a vulnerable position."
"My brother can't wait." I detested how the words shook, my eyes dropping to the dark flicker of the fire against the stone floor. "And if the letter is to be taken at face value, Baelish is waiting for the exact same thing. We would be foolish to try and beat him at a game that he's been playing longer on his own domain."
Robb's eyes were dark, assessing as they slid to me, a small smile curling his full lips as if he agreed with me. I looked away, blushing.
"Well, that leaves us barely any options-" Sansa started to hiss, a hand rubbing at her face.
"It's almost lunch." All three of us stilled, our eyes darting to the stark outline of Catelyn's body as she kept her eyes on the flames dancing before her. Something unsettling had softened her face, leaving her looking empty. Detached. Slowly, her eyes slid to meet ours. "We're in the mouth of the beast now. Perhaps we should try to gut it from the inside, hm?"