The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - XX

TW// Explicit content after middle cut

—

THE GREAT HALL WAS far smaller than any Aryadne had seen. It was packed, with rows of tables barely able to hold the sheer number of guests. Most of the remaining soldiers had come, though many remained in the castle grounds. She sat at the high table beside Robb, with the Smallwoods and his bannermen on either side. Grey Wind sat at his feet and nibbled on all the scraps he could get. When nobody was looking, she slipped him some of her portions.

It was too loud for her to think properly on the short ceremony or her new husband, who had made several attempts at conversation that had all ended in stumbled replies and silence. She could not eat much. For the sake of her hosts, she managed a few bites of each course. The worst was certainly behind her, but another dreaded event lay ahead — the wedding night. Talisa's explanation had prepared her for what was to come. She only hoped that the other things she had heard, whispered by the ladies of the royal court, were not true.

She attempted to focus on the jolly music sounding from the entertainers situated on a balcony above. It paired well with the drunkenness of the guests, many of whom sang along to the tunes they knew. It brought her mind back to that first night of freedom with Talisa and her fellow travellers. Searching, she found her friend sat at one of the closest benches. Their eyes met and the young woman raised a concerned brow. She did her best to smile in response.

Robb's chair pushed back. The second he stood, silence fell. "As is customary, I'd like to say a few words. First, a thanks to our host. It must have been quite the shock, taking us in at such short notice. But what an excellent host you have been. To Lord Smallwood." A few cheers scattered from the resident guests. "Next, I want to praise the strength and the stubbornness of each and every man who has fought alongside me. The North remembers, and you will go down in history for your bravery. I thank you all. Winterfell!"

"Winterfell!" the roar came back. It echoed from every corner of the hall, shaking the oak walls.

Now, he turned to her. "But most of all, on this special night, I toast to you. To a friendship I hope will only strengthen. To the one true child of Robert Baratheon, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Our home is your home, our fight is your fight, our heart is your heart. You are one of us now. To Aryadne; my wife, my queen." With every word, she held his fond gaze. There was no answer she could give. Nothing but the flushing of her cheeks and a bashful smile. She raised her goblet to him. But he was not finished. "To mark this night, I wish to present you with a gift."

With Olyvar newly knighted, an unfamiliar squire hurried forwards. He bowed to them and set a small chest on the table. Robb pushed it towards her. Reluctantly, she opened it. Inside sat a bronze circlet. Like his, the centre of it bore a shield embossed with a direwolf head. Instead of the swords that spiked from his own crown, hers was ringed with iron antlers. Words were lost on her. She marvelled at it, then met his eyes. There was a reticence to him as he waited for a reaction. "It is beautiful," she breathed.

It was clearly a struggle for him to hide his grin. Breaking away, he lifted the crown from its box and set it carefully on her head. It weighed more than she had expected but she could not bring herself to think on it. She didn't want to look away from him. Guiding her to stand, he joined their hands again and rose them into the air. "The Queen in the North!"

"The Queen in the North!" As before, a triumphant call sounded in response. Swords and goblets rose in toast. All for her. For them.

The feast was bound to continue until the small hours, but their time had come. The guests were clamouring for the bedding ceremony to begin and they had no way to stall. A jaunty tune started up from the balcony, voices lifting in eager anticipation. The Greatjon was the first of the men to come to her side. With no warning, he lifted her right up onto his shoulder. She yelped, clinging onto him for dear life. It was not long before others joined, but he was so tall that she was almost out of reach. Hands brushed against her, pulling at her cloak and the laces of her gown.