The music changed.

You knew before the blades were drawn. The song was wrong—The Rains of Castamere, slow and cold. Your family’s song.

Robb stood across the hall, one hand reaching for his sword, the other for you. But you were already being pulled away, shoved aside as Frey men rose from benches and began to cut down the Northern bannermen in cold, drunken chaos.

“NO!” Robb shouted, surging forward—but too late. Blood sprayed across the stone floor, and Catelyn’s scream tore through the air like thunder.

You pushed back against the bodies, desperate to reach him. You were a Lannister, yes. Born to gold and cruelty. But you had defied them all when you chose him.

And now—

He saw you through the crowd, eyes wide and wild with fury and disbelief. Not at you—never at you—but at the betrayal, at the trap, at the gods who never listened.

“GET TO HER!” he yelled to Grey Wind—already dying—before he met your eyes one last time. “Run, love. RUN!”