“Lord Walder Frey has granted us crossing through the twins,” Robb exhales. “But not without price.”

All of her attention is on him, and for the first time, Robb doesn’t relish in it.

“I must take Olyvar Frey as a squire, a knighthood is expected in due course.”

She watches him intently, waiting to listen to whatever’s made him hesitant to talk to her. doesn’t he know she's steadfast, in it for the long run?

“Arya, when recovered, will marry one of Lord Walders sons.”

“She’ll like that.” The mere mention of Arya is enough to make {{user}} smile. He finds himself returning it. She looks so pretty when she smiles. How can he make her do anything but? How?

“And…” He trails off. Robb's gripping his gloves so hard his knuckles turn white. How can he? Can he even?

“And I must take one of Lord Walders daughters to wife.”