The Songs of Winter | Robb Stark

Chapter 4

As my wooden sword thwacks against Robb's side, he lets out a dramatic groan, and I can't help but laugh. "Don't be a sore loser, Robb," I tease, my grin spreading wider.

He drops his sword, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he shoots me a sidelong glance. "I just don't get how you and Jon are so good at this," he admits, his voice tinged with admiration.

I shrug, making my way to my water pack for a long, satisfying drink. As I wipe my chin with the back of my hand, I reply, "Who knows? Maybe it's that motherless grief we share." The lightness of my tone is undercut by my dark humor.

Robb chuckles, shaking his head. "No, if that were true, then Theon would actually be halfway decent," he quips, causing a scoff to escape Theon from where Theon watches, arms crossed, from the sidelines.

"What a surprise, you two ganging up on me," Theon retorts, a playful glint in his eyes as he joins us. "How about we try something new for once?"

I sidle up to him, giving a playful shrug. "Sorry, but you're just too easy to make fun of," I reply, laughter bubbling up between us.

Theon rolls his eyes, feigning indignation. "One day, you two will see. My name will be in the legends," he declares, a spark of determination lighting his gaze.

I give his shoulder a playful nudge, warmth blooming in my chest. "And I believe it," I assure him, my sincerity shining through. Despite his antics, Theon is a true friend with untapped potential.

He grins back at me, a flicker of pride in his smile. Dusting himself off, he declares, "Alright, you two. The whorehouses must be missing me," and I scrunch my face in exaggerated disgust as he saunters away.

Settling next to Robb, I take a moment to catch my breath. "So, what did you think of the royal family?" I ask, curiosity lighting my tone. "The Queen definitely lives up to the rumors."

Robb raises an eyebrow playfully, and a hint of something flickers in his eyes. "Yeah, but she's no match for you just yet," he says, his tone light, but I catch the softness behind his words.

My heart skips a beat, but I laugh it off.

Robb's smile fades slightly as he leans back, his expression turning serious. "But seriously, I can't shake off this weird feeling about Joffrey and my sister," he admits, concern knitting his brow.

I wrap my arms around my knees, nodding in understanding. "I've tried to talk some sense into her, but it's like she's in a trance," I sigh. "What if we're wrong, though? What if they're just... rumors?"

"I wish that were true," Robb says, his voice low. "But something in my gut says it's not." His gaze is troubled, and a knot of worry tightens in my chest.

I place my hand on his arm, my heart aching at the worry etched on his face. "What's bothering you?" I ask softly.

"I just have this feeling," he confesses, his tone heavy. "Things are changing for the worse, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can't shake it."

Squeezing his arm gently, I offer him a reassuring smile. "Change is scary, Robb," I say, my voice laced with empathy.

He sighs, staring at the ground as if it holds the answers. "Yeah, and everything is going to change between us soon," he adds, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

A knot tightens in my stomach at the mention of our betrothal—an elephant in the room we've both been trying to ignore. "We need to talk about this soon, Aid," he says, resignation flooding his voice.

I nod, feeling the gravity of our situation settle over us like a heavy blanket. It's a conversation we've been avoiding, but it looms closer with each passing moment, an inevitable storm on the horizon.