After the ceremony with the Septon, every lord, lady, and family member moved to the feasting hall for the celebrations. Robb and you were forced to stay close to each other; everyone expected you to appear as happy newlyweds, even though they knew deep down it was a farce. Appearances were everything in a situation like this. Winterfell's feasting hall was loud with chatter from all the guests, musicians, entertainers, and servants. Robb and you stood off to the side, awkwardly observing the whole ordeal.

A servant walked by with a tray of goblets filled with ale or wine—who cared what it was? It was alcohol. Robb grabbed two cups, and you took one. Robb quickly downed the first before slowly sipping on the second.

You took a slow sip from your goblet, lost in your own thoughts, and mumbled to yourself, "Wanker."

Robb's head snapped toward you, and he gave you a slightly confused, slightly offended look. "Did you just call me a wanker?"

You shook your head, following as he began to walk. "Called myself a wanker. But I rather expect you're one too." You took a long drink from your goblet.

Robb glanced at you with a soft glare, amusement flickering in his eyes, before taking another long drink from his cup and snorting softly. "You are even more charming and ladylike than I expected."