He was a graceful horse rider, with a much different technique than Dothraki people but much more similar to Ser Jorah. She missed her best advisor but he said he trusted her - that she needed to not be as hot-blooded as her brother had been and she'd be fine.
It amused her to see hints of his reddish hair gleaming under the sun. Robb seemed like a boy who had unwillingly turned into a man. He had probably been a playful young lad who would've been happy just forgoing his duties as a noble man. And she had sometimes thought about it but it was in their blood.
By nightfall, they had found a small inn, a place where only Robb spoke to the man in charge and the women who served the patrons.
Daenerys could tell the man had uttered a crude joke about them because he was eyeing her and her handmaidens with hungry eyes like most men in the place that fortunately weren't many. She didn't know what Robb had said in return but he had handed a few coins to the man.
"Follow me," Robb spoke as soon as he returned to them.
He had paid for two rooms, one for them and another for her handmaidens.
Once inside the room she finally shed her hooded cloak but Robb just adjusted his clothes and checked on his sword.
"Aren't you going to bed?" she asked, looking for her clothes and untangling her hair to braid it before bed.
He took a chair and placed it near the door, where he sat. "I can't." Grey Wind curled down at Robb's feet and made clear that both of them would stand guard at the door.
She wasn't about to fight him because they were in danger, both thanks to her and, if rumors were true, about his father and his sense of justice and right.
She didn't understand why anyone would mess with power, or why if Eddard Stark didn't trust the Usurper's judgment, he hadn't done something about it sooner, from the inside. But betrayal wasn't how the Starks played.
