The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - XXXIV

THE JOURNEY TO RIVERRUN WAS tiring, and Aryadne had much to think on. She ran over the news in her head, of the burning of Winterfell, of Bran and Rickon. Those sweet boys she had known so long ago could be dead. Images of them rolled through her mind over and over. Bran had only been ten when she met him. He would now be thirteen, a mature young man in the eyes of society. The thought unsettled her. He had seemed so vulnerable back then. She then thought of Rickon, now nine. When she left, the child barely knew his letters. Now, he could be dead.

She wanted to believe Robb, that they were simply in hiding. She had to believe it. She wasn't sure what another loss would do to her, especially that of two more children.

Having ridden for many hours, the army arrived at Riverrun just as the sun sank below the meandering horizon. The clouds had cleared, allowing it to streak the pale sky and set the vast river ablaze. Down the slope ahead of them, the castle rose into view. It was a rather squat building with many spired turrets. With bridges running across to the wooded banks on either side, it was mostly built upon the river itself, supported by thick stone arches of a sandy hue.

Aryadne stayed by Robb's side, his mother behind them with her guards. Sentries clad in Tully armour granted them passage through. They made their way along a wide bridge and into the courtyard. Two men stood in wait by the main door, surrounded by their various staff. Robb alighted first. He approached, holding a hand out to aid Aryadne. She did not need it but accepted with a small nod of thanks. Together, they approached.

Now, she could see the men better. One was older, with a stony expression and grey hair to match, slicked messily back. His stubbled jaw was set in a scowl. He wore only black, the scaled armour over his shoulders embossed with a leaping trout. The other man was a little shorter and long-faced, though smiling. It startled Aryadne to realise that, had he been at least two decades younger and more sullen, he would have looked almost identical to Robb. They had the same auburn hair and blue eyes — Tully features. Once they were stood before them, the two men bowed deeply. They did not rise until Robb gave a small gesture for them to do so. His hand had now moved from Aryande's hand to the crook of her elbow. "My queen, may I introduce you to Lord Edmure Tully, my uncle. And Ser Brynden Tully, brother of my late grandfather."

She inclined her head, quickly taken by surprise when the new lord of Riverrun knelt once again, grasping her hand and kissing it. "A pleasure to meet you, my lord. I must offer my deepest condolences, and thank you for your hospitality."

"There is no need to thank me, Your Grace. And I offer the same — I believe my father promised you sanctuary for the birth of your child. I am sorry it wasn't meant to be. But I must say, my nephew is a lucky man. No doubt you shall be blessed again in no time."

Behind him, Ser Brynden rolled his eyes. She caught his gaze and smiled a little, trying to maintain her manners despite her exhaustion. "You are too kind."

Edmure soon turned his attention elsewhere, his arms opening in a familial greeting. "Cat," he greeted Lady Stark.

Caught off guard by his tight embrace, her eyes widened slightly. She hugged him back, nevertheless. "It is good to see you, Edmure."

It seemed that Aryadne was not the only one intrigued by the interaction, as she saw Robb's curious frown. He had not been here before and had only heard of his uncle in passing comments. This was a side of the family he was not overly familiar with. To see his mother welcomed in such a way came as a pleasant surprise. Once he released his sister, Edmure beckoned for them to follow him through the ornate doors, the pine engraved with waves and dancing fish. "Come. You must be starving. We have the feast all prepared. But first, your rooms."

—

The great hall promptly filled with a mixture of soldiers and citizens. The ale flowed and course after course was brought out. Seated at the head table by Robb's side, Aryadne awkwardly adjusted the antler-adorned crown on her head. She looked around at the platters, mostly bearing different types of fish. She had never seen so many. Even as a port city, King's Landing had rather unclean water, and thus its marine life was stunted and scarce. Robb noticed the way she picked at her food, her fork pushing a lump of roasted carrot around her plate. "Is the food not to your liking?" he enquired in a lowered voice.