Thorn of Winterfell

The march is on

{Everyone say thank you awoiaf.westeros.org, we love you awoiaf.westeros.org for providing all the lore in an easily accessible manner. Picture is of the unimpressed Syana}
Syana decided she liked Forest Frey's wife. She was a young woman not much older than her. She was a loud and funny woman who was charming without trying to be. Sabitha didn't take any shit from anyone. She was domineering to the men and graciously sweet to the women. Syana got the sense the woman would ride out to war herself if she had the option. But she had a good attitude about it, joking that the twins would screech to a halt if she so much as took a stroll about the gardens. She meant it as an exaggeration joke but her underlying tone suggested it was not.

"Come on you great lot of boring louts! We've got a single night and who knows what will come to pass after you leave these halls. Let us have some music and dancing!" The glare she sent about the room when no one moved, set everyone to their feet.

Syana danced first with the prince Jacaerys who looked more and more strained by the hour, his face set in a permanent pout.

"The riverlands are going to think you've let the north smother your fire if you keep frowning like that, my prince."

He set his jaw even tighter, his hand squeezing hers tightly while they spun around the room.

"I should go. Fly back to my mother and talk to her."

She refrained from rolling her eyes at him. They'd been over this a million times already.

"Lord Dustin doesn't think its a good idea. You heard him, we don't know where Aemond is or if he's watching the skies to Dragonstone. But you can't outfly him if he is. We know they desperately want what we have, Harrenhal. You can help us here, my prince. Besides, your mother hasn't seen fit to call you back."

He shot her a dark glare before sighing deeply. "You're right of course. I just can't stand waiting."

Syana knew he hadn't taken any time to process his brother's death. There was no time for it, they were marching now and before long many more would be dead. Forrest Frey had taken two hundred knights and six hundred infantrymen with him to join with the three hundred Blackwood archers at Harrenhal led by Rob Rivers, bastard brother of Lord Samwell. Said to be one of the best bowmen in the riverlands. She hoped they had already arrived and that the road ahead of them was clear. Another force was waiting for them at Raventree hall with the heir. Another young man like her brother, called Benjicot. Endearingly referred to as Bloody Ben, for his penchant for carnage. His father had been killed during the battle of the burning mill, Sabitha had told them sadly.

"Come on my prince, you must've had many dancing lessons. Show a girl a good time before she heads to war will you?"

He smiled ruefully at her but stepped back at the end of the song before leaving the hall altogether. She left the floor to find her brother, who was hiding behind a stone column pretending not to hear the music playing.

"You know, you might try dancing with one of them." She nodded her head towards the gaggle of Frey women obviously looking at her brother and giggling.

Cregan frowned, uninterested. He didn't bother to look at the women. And she felt for him, his wife had been his childhood best friend. A love that couldn't be easily set aside. They all loved Rickon but the hole Arra left in their life was cavernous. The little heir often resembled his mother in the most painful ways.

"Not every woman can have the steel of a northerner brother and likely none as fierce as Arra. But there's another out there for you."

He raised a brow at her, pinning her with his stare. "And what about you? Plenty of men pining away for a chance with you."