Rumours

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Robb Stark had treated Giana better than she knew her father would treat any Stark hostage. That wasn't to say it was a pleasant experience being a hostage of the Starks. After Renan Snow had kidnapped her and her son Leo, the ride back to Riverrun to meet the retreating Northern army had been more gruelling than any journey Giana had taken in her life. Snow insisted that they rode all day and half the night to get away from any rescuers coming after her, and with autumn coming along the nights were getting colder and colder. That didn't seem to bother the Northmen, but Giana spent a lot of time shivering, hungry and sore from riding.

Her heart had almost leapt out of her chest, however, when a hulking dark shape slinked out of the trees when they made camp one night. Upon seeing it was a monstrously large wolf, Giana screamed, jumping up and pulling Leo behind her as she backed away. The great black beast eyed her for a long moment with narrow eyes, then seemed to grow disdainful, turning to Ren who now stood beside it.

"It's alright, my lady," He said, smiling at the monster and ruffling a hand through its fur. "This is Crow. He's with us, although I thought he'd stay with his pack,"

"Pack?" Giana asked faintly, eyes wide, unable look away from the creature. She had heard that the Starks rode into battle with direwolves, but hadn't believed the stories, and never thought the wolves would be this big.

"Each of us with Stark blood have one," He explained. "Robb has Grey Wind. He's as tall as Crow but more powerfully built. Lady and Nymeria belong to Sansa and Arya. Ghost is with Jon Snow at the Wall, whilst Summer and Shaggydog..."

He trailed off, eyes darkening, and Giana realised those two must have belonged to the Stark boys murdered at Winterfell by the Greyjoys.

"Is he... dangerous?"

All the men chuckled at that, amused at her fear, though they also eyed the wolf with some level of apprehension, which did not help.

"Very," Came Ren's reply.

"They fight in battle, milady," One man said. "Brutal killers the lot of them, though this one's especially vicious. Lord Robb's wolf might be bigger, Snow, but yours scares me more,"

Ren grinned at that, and it seemed like Crow did too.

"Nymeria's almost as bad," Another added. "As wild as little Arya, and ten times as vicious. Saw her shake a man like a terrier would a rat when we fought at the Crag,"

Giana tried to imagine what it would be like being a common soldier armed with a sword and boiled leather armour with one of those monsters bearing down on you. She shuddered, even as her son began asking Ren a stream of questions about the beast. It was times like this when she thanked her lucky stars for being born a woman. She would never have to ride into battle.

"Jaime's at Riverrun, is he not?" She asked Ren as she rode behind him one morning. "You captured him at the Whispering Wood?"

"We fought at the Whispering Wood," The young knight granted. "He was making a beeline for Robb, so I got in the way. He could've killed me if he wanted,"

"But he didn't want to," She said his unspoken words.

"He was done for either way," He said. "Killing his squire of five years, a nephew of the Lord of Winterfell, purely out of spite would hardly achieve anything other than hatred from his captors. Further hatred, anyway,"

"Is that what you told anyone asking too many questions?"

"Yes," Came the flat reply, though she saw his lips twitch slightly.

They arrived at Riverrun to find it held by a garrison officially in the charge of Edmure Tully but actually led by his uncle, Brynden Blackfish. Lord Hoster was bedridden, dying; Giana felt for both Lady Catelyn Stark and Lysa Arryn, who were both unlikely to see their father alive again. She was given a plain but comfortable room high up in the castle, with a sheer drop from the window and two guards to follow her wherever she went. It seemed a bit much; she was a highborn lady, how much damage could she do? Not to mention the fact that even if she was stupid enough to escape, there was no chance she would get through the Riverlands alive, let alone with a young child.

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