The morning mist still clung to the trees as Theona Greyjoy rode beside Robb through the Wolfswood with lord Eddard at the front, her sharp eyes scanning the trees. The sounds of the forest echoed around them, the only company besides the distant rustle of leaves and the occasional call of a bird.

She glanced sideways at Robb, whose presence was always a comfort, but there was a gnawing feeling in her chest that she couldn’t shake. Winterfell was home, yes, but it wasn’t truly hers. The Stark blood ran through Robb’s veins, his family. Not hers. She was the outsider, no matter how many hunts they shared, how many lessons they practiced together.

"I thought you would have caught that rabbit," she said lightly, teasing him for a missed arrow. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, her gaze remained ahead, determined not to show how much the weight of it all pressed on her.