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Chapter Twenty-Four: Famished
Silence. The world was much too silent for the beating of my wild heart. There was barely any haste that I could feel from anyone but myself as we had turned corner after corner, finally reaching our room.
Even now, as Robb fumbled with the strings of my outer dress, tugging them closed in the manner of someone who had never handled delicate things except to tear them - I could sense the buzzing, foaming energy that was lightening my insides. I couldn't see anything in his face as I turned around to face him once more except gentle confusion, his brows furrowed. We hadn't had time to call on a maid, leaving him to help me shuck on the easiest dress - my big brute of a husband, tightening my dress stays.
"Are you-" I struggled to get the words out, my mouth too dry. In a few moments, we would be at dinner with Baelish - in a few moments, I wasn't sure -
"Fiesty little thing." The feel of fire encroaching closer and closer, eating away at dirt and trees and bodies, thickening the air that I was breathing.
I remembered it all so vividly in that moment - the feel of that horrid man's hands on me. That little girl's wide, green eyes moments before she had thrown down a noxious cocktail of liquid that lit the forest around us ablaze. It was still all too fresh - even these weeks later.
"Willa." I gasped, jerking away from those terrible memories so hard that Robb's hands were the only thing that stopped be from falling into the desk just behind me. I struggled, drawing in shallow breath after shallow breath, my hands curling around the cold leather bracers at his forearms as his hands held me upright at my waist. He ducked, those endearing curls falling into the arctic blue of his eyes as he caught my eyes. "You need to breathe, kitten. Breathe. No rush just take one long breath…"
I let out a choked laugh, the sound ending on another ragged gasp as I drew in an unsteady breath. And then another. My fingers curled along the etchings along his forearms, the harsh strings laced tight along the underside. How was he so calm? How was he so willing to spare so much for me?
"I -" Words slipped and slid along my tongue, here and gone again. My eyes searched his, our faces so close that I could feel his breath along my lips. There was no coldness to his eyes, the concern there gentling those winter winds into the sunny blue of a fresh, clear day. "How can you be so…"
I searched for some type of word, something that didn't sound foolish. Because of course, he was scared. I had seen it in the dark tilt of his brow as he led me back to our room. I could see it in the way that his hands had momentarily fumbled on my corset strings, his face deceptively blank.
Bravery, I had begun to find, was a twisted thing. You needed to be afraid - so afraid that it twisted your guts and clawed its way up your throat. Afraid enough to feel hands wrapping and wringing, folding your insides into tiny boxes. It was in that fear where true bravery lay.
And Robb Stark, the Wolf of the North was very afraid at this moment.
His lips tipped into a small, self-deprecating smirk. "I am afraid, little wife. I feel it every time I look at my sister or my mother or all the men who have gotten me home alive. I think about it when I see the stone walls all around us and no way to get out." That smile slipped for a moment, his eyes running over my face in a slow, fixed way. As if he were seeing me for the first time. "I'm afraid every time I look at you."
The delicate skin of my heart twisted, delicate muscles breaking like threads on a dress being slowly ripped apart. If this was the last time I saw him…
"You have to know-" My words broke, the reality of what might happen tonight crashing down on me. I felt words - so many words - crowding at my throat, shouldering each other in a desperate bid to work their way to my tongue. I could taste them - all of them sweet to the point of sickliness. How foolish I was. What a coward I had been. How he had hurt me with his words - hurt me because they were true in a way. I was a naive little Frey girl, kept in a tower for too long while he had been out doing things. So much crowded forward, my eyes burning as I thought about the Lannisters and how suddenly they had all fallen. One moment at the top and the next at the bottom. I kept his eyes, refusing to look away as he leaned a bit closer, his nose brushing against mine in a way that broke my heart. "You have to know that I - that I care for you. You have to know that I - I'm just trying to keep you - to keep us both safe. The best that I can. The only way I know how to. I'm sorry - I'm sorry for what - for the things that I said. I thought - I thought I was protecting - I was just trying to protect myself."
How fragile life was - how fragile it felt in those stolen moments in the Vale. Robb's breath blew warm against my lips and not for the first time, I wished that I could kiss him. I wished that I could lock the door and keep us here so that we couldn't face all of the uncertainty outside. Oh, how I wished.
But Robb wasn't like me. He was too filled with battle. He had tasted the dirt and blood that came from the open fields. He had lived most of his adolescence in that chaos. In some ways, I wondered if he missed it like so many other things that the body learns to accept after years of exposure. His lips curved into that devilish smile and I felt the ghost of it against my own, his nose tipping into me.
"Ah, my beautiful, cautious wife," he breathed and the hands along my waist slid around, tugging my body flush to his, my hands sliding upward with the motion to clutch at his shoulders. His lips, full and soft caught mine for one breathless, fleeting moment, my lips catching between his. It was a kiss that jarred me - snapping me out of whatever wilting mood I had been in before. His eyes twinkled at me as he took in my shocked expression, the tears that had froze at the fringe of my lashes. "Are you still crying, sweetness?"
Was he - was he teasing me? Now ?! Of all times?
"You emotionless bru-" His lips caught mine once more. His hands pressed into my skirts, hauling me closer with enough force to push the air from my lunges. I fumbled, mind going blank, nails digging into the sleeves of his shirt. He pulled away and I stumbled to find what I was mad about. "I was pouring my heart out-"
"I know, love," he breathed, his lips sticking to mine in another short, drugging kiss that made my whole body tense with butterflies. Those unreasonably blue eyes gleamed down at me. "I know how much you try. I know how much you think and plan and spin things in ways that make me marvel at you every single day. But sometimes there isn't a new story to spin. Sometimes things are bleak and hard and there's only one way out."
Through blood and death. Shivers ran up my spine, my eyes catching and holding his as he held me close.
"I am sorry as well," he breathed and I felt the words along my tongue. His eyes dipped for a moment, taking in the swell of lips, his brows furrowing like he was concentrating on something very hard. One hand dragged a long, burning line up my spine, lifting to curve around my jaw. There weren't any expectations in this hold - none of the tension that I felt so many times in his arms. Instead, there was a suffocating intimacy to the embrace, the way that he held me so tightly, so carefully as if I was delicate and precious to him. "There are many things that I said - things that are only half-truths. You are hard but it's that hardness that brought you back from death. You always find a way. You always pick yourself up before I even have the chance to help you. It's the fact that you're headstrong that means I can always lean on you. You're so… so fierce , Willa. You amaze me at every turn. You make me…" His forehead pressed to mine his fingers warm and strong against, the tips of his fingers skimming my ears as I listened, my heart cracking open. "You make me want to be better. You make me want to earn your trust. And I know I can't have it. I know that there's a reason you won't give it to me willingly. But I promise - I vow that there isn't a day that will go by without me there for you to rest your burdens on."
My heart felt like a frail, raw burden, thumping steadily to the beat of Robb's breath. My fingers moved before I could consciously think, hesitating a moment hovering above his heart before reaching forward to run my fingers along the hard line of his jaw, his stubble tickling my skin. His breath sighed out on a deep exhale, his eyes fluttering shut in a movement that pounded at my heart even more. He was all softness for me in that moment, his shoulders hunching toward me in such a vulnerable way.
I wanted to protect him. I wanted to keep him close. Deep, deep down, my vines gave a pulse, the brick around us shuddering.
His eyes fluttered open just as words tumbled from my lips, my fingers slipping farther along his jaw, feeling the way his curls splayed around the delicate shell of his ear.
"You're not my father." A deep breath seemed to sigh from my very center, the words a strange, exhilarating admission. His eyes went heavy, darkness creeping into the clear skies of his gaze. I swallowed. "I'm sorry for treating you like you were."
How long had I been holding onto the hurt from him? I felt ashamed for hating Robb so much in that moment - ashamed and a little bit foolish. I had done it without thinking. I had loaded him down with all my trauma so quickly that I hadn't even realized. Men - in my world - took what they wanted. And his marriage to me had felt a bit like that. Like he had conquered the world and then decided to conquer something lesser for fun. It had been unfair but… but I couldn't help the strange burning squeeze in my chest as I thought about how many sisters I had watch go to men who had beat them. Who had used them for sons and thrown away the daughters if too many were born. Who had kept their mistresses, crowning them while my poor, quiet sisters had stayed to nurse the babes.
A spark of fear bit at the edges of this new warmth. What if you're wrong, a traitorous voice seethed. What if he's just pretending?
"You need to tell me who Talisa is." I blurted it out, half wanting the pain of his answer, half dreading it.
His eyes shifted, lighting once more at the question. "Talisa," he started slowly, pulling his hands away slightly to rest at my waist. A shock of panic burst through me. "Was a woman that I met during one of my first battles for the North. She was a healer. I enjoyed that she wasn't particularly inclined to take my side. I liked that she didn't seem attached to me. We slept together but there was nothing more. We parted ways before I got to Kings Landing."
I searched his eyes, trying and failing to find what he was leaving out. To my surprise, he continued.
"Before her was a lass in one of the towns. And another before her in a little inn called Grainly." My heart gave a startled jerk as he listed off every single woman he had ever touched in all his years. "When I was still in Winterfell, I had a Sept who-"
"I don't need to hear it all!" I blurted, heat searing my cheeks as I tried to think of anything but the fact that Robb had been with other women. People did that though. The maids did that. Men in battle did that. The only people that valued purity were the ones that had something to gain from it. Mainly fathers who liked to sell their girls off. A thought struck me, my nose wrinkling as I gave him a glare. "Why did you keep it such a secret? You acted as if it was some scandal! You made me think…"
You made me jealous . I shut my lips against those words.
A dusty of scarlet seared over his neck, painting his ears and cheeks a charming rose. His eyes flicked to the floor. "I… You just always seemed to be holding so much back. I thought… I don't rightly know what I was thinking. Maybe that it would make you come to me faster? Maybe that I just wanted to see if you truly cared for me - even a little bit? I was being childish. And pathetic." His throat worked for a moment, his eyes snapping up to meet mine, a hard edge to those eyes. "And I wasn't willing to talk badly about her - about Talisa. She wasn't - she wasn't my love. Often enough I didn't even like her. But she was with me - all those bloody nights. All those horrible, restless evenings when I had to see another dozen men butchered. She was there for me. And I wasn't sure if you would want me to drag her through the mud for the sake of your feelings. I still wouldn't do it."
Suddenly, I wondered how many times Robb would have had to cry out for someone for Talisa's name to be the first one that left his lips. How gruesome those nights must have been to have him crying out in the dark of his tent with only another human to distract him.
I felt the last of my walls crumble.
"I would never forgive you if you did, husband," I murmured and his eyes flashed with harsh approval, his lips curling at my admission.
We were still an absolute disaster.
We were still a dinner away from being murdered.
Resolve tightened my stomach. I wouldn't let this be the end. Not for him. He deserved to see Winterfell again. He deserved every bit of rotten land that he got from the Lannisters. I would see him back to his castle. I would do it even if it killed me.
A soft knock sounded, breaking the quiet intimacy of our embrace. Robb's head tipped at the interruption, his eyes staying locked with mine even as he shifted his ear to the door.
"The Lord and Lady humbly request your attendance at dinner this evening." I heard the soft shuffling of footsteps disappearing once more.
Robb's lips twisted into a mocking sneer. "Looks like they're playing nice tonight. How adorable." His face smoothed again, his eyes slipping back to me. I watched as determination settle heavily into the skin creasing his brows. "Have faith in me, love. You've been working rather hard to keep us in my aunt's good graces. I think it's time that you gave those responsibilities to me."
Pure dread pooled in my core. The smug glint in his eye was enough to make me think that my responsibilities would be well dismissed. I wasn't particularly offended by the notion.
The feast laid out was grotesquely massive. Soups the color of lush vibrant corn nearly overflowed a silver bowl decorated with the Vales sigil. Bread still hot from the ovens cooled on platters beside dishes with slabs of butter on them. Grapes and apple wedges curled around each dish in a way that made me imagine that they were for show and nothing more. A pity since even that seemed to be glistening with a freshness that belied the frigid howl of wind against Vale's impregnable walls.
My eyes slid inadvertently to the guards standing ready by the doors, a few standing silent in the back of the room. The walls were impregnable - yes - but we wouldn't be trying to get in. We would be trying to get out. Because the Vale was so large with such a wide breadth of the area to guard, most of the soldiers were placed at the bridge. Fire pits were lit when there was danger from within the Vale - calling the exterior guards back within. If we could isolate the interior guards then we would have a fighting chance to take the rest.
Plus… My eyes slid to the side, taking in the massive man standing just beside Sansa and Catelyn. Robb's sister had been busy in her time in the Vale. Far from the pretty wallflower that she had been described to me as, she seemed to be cunning. And a bit cold. Her eyes slid to me and I was struck suddenly by how similar they were to her brother's. There was sharp wit just behind that easy smile and she knew it. A slight tilt of her lips was all I got before she was turning back to laugh at whatever her companion said.
I searched out the intricate weavings along his cloak, the reddish thread crisscrossing and dipping in a web of lines that was clipped neatly inside of a firm square. I had heard very little about the Lord of Runestone, the second most powerful family in the Vale besides the Aryn's. All I knew was that they had sat on that throne for generations upon generations, each swearing fealty to the Vale at every turn of the hand. And also one of the few people that could sway the guards.
My hand squeezed into the crook of Robb's arm, hope flickering in my chest as the new man. His eyes dipped to me instantly, his face deceptively blank. But there was mischief behind those blue eyes.
"Sir Royce!" Lysa exclaimed from her seat at the head of the table. Her son was strangely absent. "I wasn't expecting you."
Beside her, Lord Baelish shifted, the sharp lines of his face contorting for a single second as his eyes darted around at the people gathered and seemed to make a conclusion that he didn't particularly like. It was there and gone in an instant, the sly tilt of his brows the only indication of annoyance beneath his amiable smile.
"A chance meeting," Lord Royce said, his cheeks reddening happily as he glanced down at Sansa with the fondness one would have for a niece. His eyes twinkled a bit. "Lady Stark begged me to come for the evening after we happened upon each other in the gardens. I couldn't refuse."
A chance meeting? I highly doubted that.
Lysa's brows dipped in confusion, her lips curling in a bemused smile. "Well, we certainly have enough food."
"Good." A shiver worked its way up my spine at the darkly taunting lilt to that single word. Robb's lips had curved into a nonchalant smirk, his eyes roving over the guards and Lysa and Petry like a wolf sniffing out rabbits. His teeth flashed. "I'm famished."