Matilda
Author's Notes:Hey, ya'll. Sorry if this post is a few days late. This chapter has really been one of my more difficult ones to write and with the events of the election, I've been entirely glued to the news and unable to focus on anything. Even so, I don't want this to be a place where real life politics needs to live in, but if you're having feelings of depression or anxiety, please know that you are not alone through this. I am definitely having them, too.
Chapter 30
Matilda
The party to go after the villain that Lord Randyll had dubbed "the Bad Apple" was organized within the hour. There was a brief argument with Lady Tarly about sending a captain out to go looking for the fiend instead, allowing the house lord to remain and oversee the festivities for his daughters, which was preferable for his station. He had no interest in that, however, and prepared for the mission just as planned. Robb prepared as well, returning to his room to change out of his formal garbs and into his traveling gear. He had at first thought them to be borrowed, but Evelyn Tarly had expressed the painstaking details she had spent on the weirwood design once she heard that he would be visiting their keep and informed that it was a gift to him alone.
He had wanted to refuse it at first, but she looked so hopeful and sincere that there was no arguing the matter. She had spent so long on it that it would have been rude to refuse, even as accepting it felt like something of a betrayal to Hermione.
It had been an awkward dinner for Robb, sitting next to Evelyn while she asked question after question about Robb, his family, the North, and Winterfell. Make no mistake, he had been perfectly polite in his answering, but all the while she was distracting him, Gerold Dayne was warming up to Hermione and a deep-rooted anger was brewing inside Robb with every response that was exchanged between them. It irritated him. Gerold irritated him, in fact. From the first moment they met, Robb sensed a kind of animosity coming from Ser Dayne, one that set his teeth on edge. He didn't know what the man wanted with his father, but he had a feeling it would have been a good idea to keep them well apart from one another. He wondered if there was time to send another message to his father before leaving on their mission. He had already sent one forward to King's Landing to inform Lord Eddard of the cult that posed a threat, but with the haste that Lord Randyll had urged for, it didn't seem likely he'd be able to also warn him about Gerold Dayne.
Instead, he focused his time on preparing for the mission. The volunteers gathered in the yard, a rainbow of different-colored cloaks and sigils, though the majority were the green with red archers of their hosts' house. In total there were about eighty-five of them and there may have been more, but the majority of the guests who had been celebrating the Tarly Twins had been drinking and were in no fit state to travel through the night on horseback. Among the sober volunteers, Robb spotted Ser Gerold. Apparently, he had passed up the offered wine in favor of unsweetened lemon water, much to Robb's disapointment. He wished the Dornish knight was remaining, just so he could minimize their interactions and keep him away from Hermione, though in her direwolf form there was likely going to be scarce few of those. That thought at least eased his initial worries, but it also brought up a few curious issues that he hadn't thought about.
They were dispelled before he could ponder more on them, right as Lord Randyll had climbed his own mount and was leading the party out of the gates. Robb broke off for about five minutes to find Hermione's familiar brown wolf form by the lake just as planned.
It was easy to tell the fully-grown she-wolf from the pup as the size difference was non-comparable. In her animagus form, Hermione was roughly the size of a pony, and her wild brown curls from her human appearance were transformed into brown tuffs of fur with curled tips.
She rushed forward the moment she spotted Robb and Grey Wind. The pup leapt with excitement to see the fellow direwolf, bounding around her as they ran to reunite with the party.
When the rest of the men caught sight of the fearfully large addition to the Northern lord, some drew arrows in startled surprise.
“Peace, all of you," Robb called, as he was catching up. "This is Matilda, Hermione’s direwolf.” They had decided on her name as a direwolf during one of their discussions on the road. In the event that Hermione ever needed to transform into her animagus form, she had instructed him to address her as such to avoid suspicion among any strangers. He asked if that particular name held some significance to her or if it was just at random? She revealed that though the name was significant to her home world's mythology, she mostly chose it because it was the name of her favorite character as a child, who too was a bookworm just like herself.
Lord Randyll's glower transformed for a moment to look surprised by the information. "The lass has a direwolf of her own? I did not hear of this, and she was not with you when you arrived at Horn Hill.”
“She is like her mistress and moves to her own tune," Robb explained. "She mostly enjoys solitude, but she’s clever and will be a good help in this. Two direwolves can prove to be an excellent advantage against rogues like this Bad Apple.”
For a moment, it seemed like Lord Randyll might have refused the company of another direwolf, but in the end he accepted the new addition with no further comment. So, they proceeded, racing down the road to where Huntsberry was supposed to be.
It was revealed during their traveling, that the dread Bad Apple was supposed to be none other than Ser Derrick Fossoway, the great uncle to the current lords of House Fossoway, a house that sported a red apple on a yellow field, or sometimes a green apple instead, depending on whether they came from Cider Hall or New Barrel. Neither side could remember which house Derrick had hailed from as none had heard any news of him since the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Rumor had it, that Derrick had been one of the instigators to that particular conflict, though that mess had ended over forty years ago. This new man claiming the Bad Apple title had to be either very old, at around sixty, or it was a son that was causing this newfound strife.
It was said that the Bad Apple ran amuck through the Seven Kingdoms at the very beginning. It wasn't widely known, since the majority of the fighting had taken place on the Stepstones, but Ser Derrick had raided a good deal of the Reach and Westerlands, instigating most of that war and provoking King Jaehaerys to act quickly to the threats. Many legendary knights had won much honor in the battle on the Stepstones, including Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold, Ser Bryndyn Tully the Blackfish, Lord Tywin Lannister, and his brother Ser Kevan Lannister. Randyll Tarly had been only a small boy in those days, but he had begged his father to let him accompany them just the same. Much to his dismay, his father left him to look after the Reach instead. Randyll had initially disliked the decision, but he had won his own honor with that task as he had cut off much of the Bad Apple's strength in those days.
For the first time, Robb saw the faintest trace of a smile on Randyll when he was telling the tale of how he had won the day against two large bands of rogues by luring both through a narrow mountain pass from opposite sides and ambushing them with archers while simultaneously cutting off any hope of retreat by collapsing rocks and boulders to block up the passes. He had saved the men that had acted to bait their quarry into the trap with rope ladders they had managed to catch hold of and keep out of harm's way while the archers fired away on the rogues. It had been one of his cleverest victories and he would have been honored with a knighthood for it had he been just a little older.
The victory had spurred Randyll to pursue the Bad Apple at every chance, cutting off more and more strength with every opportunity, until the fiend's numbers had dwindled so low that Ser Derrick finally hid away like a worm in an apple and was never again heard about until that day.
This time though, Randyll intended to meet this foe face to face and take his head at last. Whether or not it was truly Ser Derrick himself or his descendant, Lord Tarly vowed that this legacy would be put to an end.
The party rode for hours all through the night, further east into the mountains to where they were told Huntsberry was nearby. In the early hours of the dawn, they spotted the smoke before they spotted the town and by the time that they got there, only bodies and the black skeletons of buildings were left of it. Robb thought he was prepared, but nothing could have prepared him for this level of slaughter. It was senseless. Men, women, children and little babies, put to the sword. The Bad Apple had certainly earned his name, and Robb felt a burst of anger fuel him as he took it in. At his side, both wolves growled and wined for the loss of life, imitating what he himself wanted to do.
Randyll ordered scouts to sweep the ruins in search of survivors and Robb decided to go off with the wolves to do just that. In the action, he spotted a left hand laying in some upturned dirt, where a skirmish may have taken place, and he had an unpleasant feeling that it may have belonged to the man that had burst into Horn Hill's great hall to report the attack.
There were regretfully no survivors, but the search had not been entirely wasted as Hermione had returned holding something of interest in her jaws. Robb took it and observed the thing that she carried. It was a torn banner with the skull and apple sigil just as it had been described. After her came Grey Wind, holding a comb made of bone that had been broken down the middle of it and distorted whatever roundish shape it had been before being damaged. He wasn't sure why the pup thought this item was of any interest, but he tucked it away into his rucksack until there was time to study it further.
Robb took it and presented the evidence to the gathered knights and lords. "Looks like it was indeed the Bad Apple who was here, Lord Tarly. Matilda found this in the rubble."
It was passed around and there were various expressions of contempt at the sight of it. Only Lord Tarly remained stoic between all of them.
There was a brief moment of argument among the men while they contemplated on what to do next. Some wanted to ride out and tail the Bad Apple immediately. Others swayed tiredly from the exhausting night of travel.
"No sense riding the men and horses ragged," Robb pointed out. "We've been up all night and the Bad Apple needs rest just as much as we do. Best to make camp outside the town and bury the dead while we're here."
"Indeed, it would be foolish to be exhausted when we face the rogues," Lord Fossoway added.
Nods of agreement were traded among the men, and it was quickly decided that they would do just that.
Squires erected tents and laid out sleeping mats around fires while others gathered up the dead and began digging graves. In the meantime, Robb joined some scouts to patrol and secure the area with Hermione and Grey Wind at his side. In time, they traded shifts with some other scouts so they could have a chance to get their own rest. During the brief confusion, Robb found a moment to break away with the two wolves, giving Hermione the opportunity to transform behind a tree and hand him some supplies for himself. A useful thing about animagi, was that not only could their bodies transform into the forms of their animals, but all their clothing and gear were transformed along with them, which proved to be extremely useful.
Robb had initially suggested she give him some mats and keep up appearances among the men while she erected their tent to stay in and put the wards up so no one happened to spot her. She refused the idea, though, and informed him she wouldn't need much while she was in her wolf form, which she intended to remain in during their mission. It brought forth a number of questions Robb suddenly got with that newfound information. Sadly though, Hermione didn't give him the chance to question her about them as he needed to return before he was missed.
So, Robb and the wolves returned to the camp, contemplating where they would lay the sleeping mats. Eventually he found a vacant spot by one of the fires guarded by some young Tarly soldiers.
"Mind if we join you?" Robb asked, coming closer to the young men and boys who were of similar age to him.
"Not at all, Lord Stark."
One of the boys was working on devouring a roasted grouse that he had hunted only a few hours ago. Sadly, the smell of it attracted Grey Wind, who eyed it longingly without blinking. The soldier tried turning away from the wolf, adamant about finishing his meal off on his own, though the pointed stare of the canine was making him visibly uncomfortable. Robb tried to call his wolf back, but the pup's attention was so entirely on the potential treat that he was salivating. In the meantime, the brown she-wolf stayed by Robb's side, getting comfortable in the space beside his mat. Robb once more tried to call his pup back, but he was so tired that he didn't have the energy to continue yelling.
"Fine then. But you're only making yourself suffer. That lad is under no obligation to give you any of his bird." As further confirmation, he instructed the soldier not to give in to his wolf no matter how much the rude dog stared nor drooled. After that, Robb lied his head down next to "Matilda" and didn't wake up until it was time for everyone to resume their traveling once again. He had a strange dream of staring at the grouse that Grey Wind had drooled over, but once it was made clear that the soldier wasn't going to share, he broke away and ran into the forest, passing surprised men as he passed. The smells that assaulted his nose expanded his vision in a way that allowed him to reach out to the world around and sense more than just what he saw with his eyes.
He heard things. Men and birds and beasts. Was this what it was like for Hermione when she transformed?
All at once, there was a wild flapping that alerted his ears. He turned and spotted a turkey strutting about. Fat and unsuspecting. His mouth watered and his stomach gave a hungry grumble. There was meat a plenty on its body, enough for sharing even with Hermione. He'd bring it back to her and oh how happy she'd be with him. He crouched in anticipation, eyes focused before leaping upon his prey. It struggled as a wash of blood and feathers filled his mouth. It's wriggling filled him with a satisfied pleasure, until his mouth bit down and crunched the life from its ugly neck.
"Time to go, milord."
Robb was jostled awake when one of the Tarly soldiers announced the party's coming departure. He was about to rise when something large and fuzzy shot out between the gathered men and came straight up to him. It dropped something heavy on his chest and Robb had only a moment to realize it was a turkey. The same turkey he had seen in his dream. He felt his heart drop at the sight of the bird. Looking at it felt similar to looking at a ghost.
Was the dream real?
No. It couldn't have been.
"You alright, Lord Stark?"
"Fine..." he murmured, brushing the feathers off as he took the dead fowl up by its legs. Matilda was roused beside him, stretching and yawning, none the wiser about what had just happened.
They made good time as they followed the tracks that led deeper into the mountains. It seemed likely the rogues were holed up in some cave or abandoned keep in the mountains. Ser Gerold Dayne suspected it could have been in Whole Heart Bridge, which was an abandoned structure high in the mountains to the east that passed over where the western barb of the Torentine River first began. It was a structure built by the First Men and the Children of the Forest then partially ruined during the first wave of Andal invaders. It was supposed to be abandoned, though it would have made a suitable hideout for rogues and large enough to sustain numbers reaching at least one hundred.
Some of the men were familiar with the name, though none had ever been there, mostly due to the fact that it was both difficult to reach and guarded by the Old Gods. Or haunted, as many of the others had corrected.
Randyll promised to tear the structure down completely after this, leaving not one stone left so no other ruffians could use it for a refuge again.
They traveled for another day before stopping again just before sundown. They made camp again only this time, Lord Randyll sent a squire to invite Robb to sup with him on freshly hunted boar. Robb traded a look with the brown wolf at his side, who growled with warning to the invitation carried by the squire.
He still had yet to learn what Hermione and Lord Randyll had been speaking about during the dance back at Horn Hill. Whatever it was had Robb's warning bells ringing, especially as it had visually shaken his companion. He almost wanted to steer her off somewhere private so they could discuss it in her human form. Little chance of that happening, though. Lord Randyll was expecting him.
"If he does not mind the company of some wolves then I would be honored to join him," he informed the lad who had been sent for him. There were no objections, so the young lord followed behind the squire, joined by the two direwolves who flanked him on both sides. All around him were fires roasting their own foods and the smells of them had his stomach growling. He hadn't been able to do anything with the turkey while they had been riding for all day, so he surrendered it all to the eager Grey Wind, who tore into the dead bird with gusto, ignoring the feathers when they found a moment to break by a stream. Thankfully, he had a few rations, though Hermione had wanted to give him more. Again though, he couldn't afford arising suspicion. He had satisfied himself with an orange and some summer sausage between bread. It had been a meager lunch, but better than nothing. Now that evening was approaching, he was again hungry and was starting to regret leaving that turkey to Grey Wind, yet Lord Randyll's squire had sought him out before he had spent too much time to debate his plans for food.
He reached the clearing where Tarly was conversing with his men. On the fire was the boar, roasting on a spit while a man fried up onions, sprouts, and mushrooms in a cauldron. In a pavilion was a table and chair ladened with dishes and cutlery set for two. At the sight of Robb, Tarly dismissed the rest.
"Ah, Lord Robb, I'm glad you're joining me this evening." Though he declared to be glad, Lord Tarly did not smile, and the fact made Robb wonder if he even could or ever had.
"Thank you, Lord Randyll. I'm grateful for your invitation. I hope you don't mind if the wolves join us."
"Not at all. I'm actually quite curious about them. They say direwolves are fierce and clever."
"My experience with them has been positive enough. The maesters have said that the dogs and hounds we have today are descended from wolves, after all. Perhaps the more mindful breeds even came from direwolves."
"Indeed. Have you thought about breeding them yourself?"
"Er..." he glanced uncomfortably at Hermione's wolf form. "I haven't really considered that. The only ones we have are Matilda and her pups. Sansa and Arya have the only females of the litter and they're all the way in King's Landing by now."
"Perhaps it's something to consider then?"
"Perhaps."
The table was set with the food, and the lords took up their spots across from one another while the wolves sat on either side of Robb like sentries. Food and drink were served to them by a manservant and Robb took a bite of the boar. It was tender and succulent, salted generously and paired excellently with the vegetables. Tarly bit into his own food, speaking as they ate.
"Have you given much thought to your own lineage or future mother to your children?"
Robb's heart hammered in his chest. "Well, perhaps some. But nothing is set in stone at this time. No matches have been made for me, nor offers of betrothal."
"It seems you are quite taken with your Lorathi companion."
Robb took a hasty drink from his goblet. He was almost disappointed to find it was lemon water, not wine or beer. "I... well... she's very important to me, without a doubt."
"Understandable. I wonder if you could tell me more about the relationship your family has with them, though?"
"Why do you care about that?"
"Normally, I would not be at all interested, but I do offer a word of warning. There are mixed rumors about them circulating through the realm, and not all of them are pleasant."
Robb narrowed his eyes as a jab suddenly struck him in the chest with those words. "What kind of rumors?"
"There's suspicion that Lady Granger may have had exploits with your Greyjoy hostage or even your baseborn brother while under--"
"I will stop you there, my lord," Robb firmly cut off Lord Tarly's crude statement with a raised hand. "While I understand your concern, I would like to tell you that I know Lady Granger far better than anyone who would come up with such depraved rumors about her. If Hermione had had a relationship that went beyond friendship with anyone, it would be none of my business nor anyone else's, and I'll not tolerate such gossip about my friend when I know her far better than any idle man who would try to besmirch her name."
Robb watched Lord Randyll's jaw tighten while in the corner of his eye he thought he saw the she-wolf at his side sit up a little straighter, almost with an air of smugness.
"I know it is probably not a topic of conversation you wish to have," Randyll tried in a manner that was uncharacteristically delicate for him, "but you must understand the blow to your family's reputation this has had to them."
"The reputation of my family is still well and good. I have done nothing but accompany my friend safely through the kingdoms. Perhaps that is what the lords and ladies of the realm should be talking about."
"Wrong." The statement was devoid of all delicacy. "You've abandoned your duty in favor of chasing a woman who finds herself in the beds of others all while you hosted the royal family in your keep. It's a wonder that King Robert did not rescind the position of Hand from your father then and there."
Robb almost faltered. "That is not how it occurred."
"It is the version that many more believe."
"Then many more are simply wrong."
"That may be, but this decision may greet you with consequences sometime in the future. Should House Stark find themselves facing conflict, you might be dismayed to find that southern allies are few to none after the crown finds their ears first."
"Is that what this is then? Here to tell me you are no ally of mine?" Robb sneered.
"No. I am interested in becoming your ally. There is a simple way for you to mend the wound you have caused. Abandon Lady Granger, Lord Stark. My daughter Evelyn is of age and has grown to become a fine woman. She has received many offers of marriage at this time, but I would pass over all of them to see her become the Lady of Winterfell someday."
Robb felt his heart hammering in his chest. His head snapped to the side when he felt the brown wolf beside him stand to her feet and walk slowly out of the tent. Robb wanted to go after her, but something kept him rooted to his chair. He felt a deep terrible sadness engulf him at the realization that she had heard such a horrible thing.
Lord Tarly followed his gaze for a moment but easily called him back to attention. "There is no disadvantage to an alliance with my house, Lord Stark. The North would only benefit from better relationships with a strong house from the Reach."
"We are done," Robb deadpanned, abandoning the rest of his meal to rise to his feet and turn to leave.
"It may not be something you wish to hear, but I have not lied to you, Lord Stark," Randyll proclaimed as Robb angrily pulled back the flap of the tent. "Do not dismiss my offer. Consider the welfare of your land and your family."
Robb said nothing to Lord Tarly as he stalked away, Grey Wind at his heels. He was positively furious. Thank goodness, Robb had the sense to walk away, because there were some choice phrases that took everything in him to keep from blurting them out.
How dare he! How dare Lord Tarly say such things! It was bad enough that he had spoken such offensive things to Robb's face, but would he have been so bold with his words if he knew Hermione had been there to hear every word?
Robb stopped shortly, his mind going to the expression that Hermione had when she pleaded to leave the feast only a day and a half ago. The pieces suddenly fell into place and Robb quickly realized that Lord Tarly had already gotten to her. A heavy rock dropped in Robb's stomach at the terrible realization and his head snapped to attention. His eyes scanned the cluster of men, horses, and tents, desperate to find a trace of the brown direwolf.
He searched for hours, asking men and boys if they'd seen anyone come this way. Some pointed him towards the woods. He searched in earnest but there was no trace of her that he found, although there was a moment when he smelt the faint traces of a fire and coffee on the air. His heart sank even more. She must have made her own camp and was now huddled behind her wards. She couldn't have been far. She might have even been just in front of him. So, this was what it was like on the other side of them.
Robb was desperate to talk to her, but he also didn't know what words to use. He felt a wave of uncertainty about this whole situation coupled by a weight of pressure. What could he say? What could he do?
He felt positively horrible. Finally, he had to give up. Leaving the woods, he returned to the Tarly soldiers he had met the day before and asked once more if he could share their fire for the night.
In the morning, the camp prepared to leave again, though Robb split away to refresh himself by the stream and relieve himself in a bush. He also wanted to see if he could find Hermione, and if not that, return to the clearing he had smelt the coffee and let her know that they were about to begin traveling again. He knew she would follow behind.
On his walk to do just that, he stopped abruptly when he heard two sets of voices. One sounded like the lilting voice of Ser Gerold Dayne. The other was the unmistakable gruff baritone of Lord Randyll. Thinking quickly, Robb dove behind a tree and listened closely.
“Are you certain you want to send one of your daughter’s so far, my lord?" Ser Gerold asked, strolling beside the Lord. "The North is cold and desolate.”
“And the largest kingdom of all," Randyll declared. "I had not intended to reach that far if there was no cause, but now that the heir is here, I must take advantage of it while the opportunity is ripe.”
“Though they boast of their honor and truth, the Starks have no qualms with abandoning it if it manages to interfere with their interests," Gerold sneered. "Specifically, their love interests.”
“It is my intention to have Robb Stark marry my daughter before his return home. Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn could hardly bemoan a union with a strong house from the Reach who raises soldiers.”
“And what of his Lorathi woman? It’s no mystery that he is fully committed to her.”
“Committed is not married and I expected you to handle that. Aren’t your Valyrian features of any good when it’s for bedding whores?”
The word brought on a fury like nothing Robb could remember having. To his surprise Gerold was the one to come to Hermione's defense. “The lady is no whore.”
“The moment she gives her maidenhead up out of wedlock begets her as one,” Randyll proclaimed.
“I argue that she has yet to give hers up.”
“You think she’s a maid?”
“Of course she is.”
“The girl’s been traveling with a man this entire time. You think he hasn’t had her on her back?”
“No, actually. I can tell these things as well as any Dornishman.”
“Virgin or not, I expected you to remove her already.”
“Do you have a preference in the manner?”
“Do what you want with the ward just as long as she is out of the way. Kidnap her if you must and get her with child. She means nothing, and I doubt he’d be so enthralled with her if she were to be defiled by another, doubly so if she were to become pregnant with a bastard. It’s all the better if you humble that temptress.”
“You expect me to dishonor myself in the process, just as long as you get what you want?”
Randyll snorted. “What honor do Dornishmen have?”
“More than you have, Lord Randyll.” Robb couldn't bear to hear more of this. With his declaration he stepped out of the brush, revealing his presence to them in full. His gaze fixed on them heated with his rage.
Randyll’s eyes widened and his face went white, while Gerold’s was only surprised.
Robb closed the distance and stood before both of them, every ounce of his fury showing upon his features. His voice was heavy, practically a growl as he looked the joyless man in his dull eyes. “You disgust me, Lord Randyll, and you have dishonored yourself. Speaking of a lady like that is beyond repugnant. With a patriarch like you, I dearly weep for your house. And if I were your eldest son, I would choose the Wall over your paltry lineage as well.”
Something caught his eye just then. There was a flash of wild curly hair and Robb was suddenly locking eyes with Hermione, who had been concealed behind a tree in her human form. The moment he had noticed her, she jerked and fled immediately away. At the sight of that expression, he felt a terrible stab of pain drive into his heart. She had heard every word exchanged by the awful men and the knowledge had him stumbling into the brush after her.
He jogged to catch up and spotted the back of her green cloak not far in front of him.
“Hermione!” He called to her. “Hermione, wait.”
She merely waved her hand behind her. “It’s fine, Robb, I don’t care.”
“Well, you might not care but I do.” He caught her wrist and forced her to stop. She didn’t look at him though, even as he turned her to him.
“What do you want me to say? Their… their thoughts don’t matter. They're nothing to me.” The words had to have been true to her, yet even as she said them, her face was tightening, and she was finding it difficult to meet his eyes. Robb hated to see that expression on her. It was devastating.
"Are you crying?" Robb asked gently.
"I'm not crying!" She blurted. But she was, and he hated that she was.
With extreme care, he folded her into his arms.
"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he said into her hair. "And I'm even more sorry it was ever said at all. I'm sorry we're even here. We can go, if you want."
He felt her shudder. "No. We've already committed to this mission. I don't want to see you spurned by the other houses even more if we abandoned this endeavor."
"Why should I be the one who was spurned?" He argued. "Lord Randyll insulted both of us. There's no dishonor in taking our leave from his company after such vulgar words from him."
"That may be so," she wiped at her tears, speaking again with logic over her emotion, like she always did. "But I don't want this to negatively affect you. If... if what he said was true about your family, then... then maybe Lady Evelyn--"
"I don't care about her," Robb blurted defiantly. "You think I want to take her to wife and be saddled forever with a father-in-law like that?"
She looked up at him, her mouth forming a tight line and her eyes still watery, despite herself. Robb went on. "I... I could never put up with someone like that. The North will take care of our own, we have for thousands of years."
His gaze soaked her in and once more he marveled over how beautiful she was. For the briefest moment he thought about Evelyn Tarly and all the other women he had ever seen, and he decided then and there that there was no one who could compare to the sorceress who stood right before him. He didn't know how it happened but before he could stop himself, he was leaning down to her, bowing his head and pressing his lips to hers. He felt her go rigid for a moment, but then her palms were flattening over his chest, and she was leaning more into the kiss.
A wave of happiness filled him at her response, and he was about to sweep more into the kiss when suddenly there was a burst of pressure that struck him abruptly in the heart. He ripped away from the kiss and saw a flash of violet light disappear at his back and the shape of a bolt suddenly bounced away from the place it would have struck him. Both of them were immediately at the ready as they scanned the place the crossbolt had sailed from. Out of the trees, came seven rogues, bearing the sigil of the Bad Apple and rushing straight for the pair, weapons drawn and waving threateningly as they decended upon the man and woman.