Among Lions and Wolves • |Book 1|

.chapter thirty-six.

And so the journey south began. Rhaella grew weary of the endless traveling. For her, it never seemed to end. North, south, north east, south again. She missed staying put in one place. In fact, she craved it. Perhaps she should have stayed put in King's Landing. It was not like she was going to see her father anytime soon, anyway. And now she was being forced against her will to wed Robb Stark.

There had been a time when she may have welcomed the idea. Wedding Robb meant leaving behind King's Landing and going back to Winterfell where she now felt at home. But things had changed. It was starting to seem a lot like Robb was not her destiny, especially if her own heart saw him as not.

She laid back against the straw cot that occupied a large vicinity of her tent. She had chosen something small and simple despite Robb's demands that she be treated like a queen and his wife, although she was not, yet.

Night had fallen and camp had been set. They were just a days ride away but those among them had grown restless and requested they stop for at least the night. Rhaella had been among them. She could sense her dire wolf's urge to go off and hunt and she'd rather stay put and wait then ride on without Winter.

So Robb, infatuated with Rhaella as ever, agreed to stop for the night to allow the men their rest and Winter to hunt. The white dire wolf left the moment Rhaella nodded her head, dismissing her. In the outskirts of the woods, Rhaella remembered the faint silver fur of another dire wolf, Nymeria. She had been waiting for the return of her pup.

And so, Winter had left Rhaella. The snow white dire wolf had not once left her side since coming into her care. And not once, had Rhaella fallen asleep without the protection of a dire wolf beside her. Perhaps that was why she was wide awake now, staring into the dark.

The only sounds that could be heard were the bugs singing their sweet lullabies of the night. She knew men kept guard, the ones that were less tired, but they were few.

She laid there flat on her back, fingers intertwined over her stomach. The cool night's wind blew, flipping open the flap on her tent, emitting in a small ray of moon light.

To her right, something stirred. She turned her head, assuming the movement to belong to her faithful companion, her female white dire wolf, Winter. But as she stared into the darkness, she realized the movement had not been from Winter. Although it was dark, Winter was still visible due to the whiteness of her coat.

Slowly she sat up, her heartbeat picking up. Rhaella slipped her hand under her pillow, feeling around for the warm handle of her dagger she never let out of her sight, not anymore. It sat near the edge, her fingers barely touched it before it slipped free and fell beneath the cot.

Rhaella quickly moved to grab the dagger but froze. Something cold and sharp touched her neck. "Men have failed her in the past," a deep, scratchy voice murmured in her head. A hand pressed up against her mouth, restraining her from screaming for help. "I will not fail her."

Tears welled in her eyes, forcing her to shut her eyes. She would not cry. She could not. They would be tears wasted and she had done enough of that. She would find a way to overcome this, but how?

"You will not scream when I remove my hand," he pushed the knife closer to her throat.

Rhaella should have felt afraid, she shouldn't have been able to think as clearly as she was. Yet she was, and because of it, she realized something wasn't right. This man, he had no intentions of cutting open her throat or cutting her open for that matter. If he had, he would have done so already. And there was no motive to rape her, no, Cersei did not intend for that to happen before either. She intended for her death to appear natural.

He slowly moved his hand, the knife still kept at her throat. She had to act quickly while his other hand was occupied.

At a pace slower than normal, Rhaella rose both arms to wrap her hands around the man's wrist. She succeeded, pushing away his arm that held the knife only to have a cloth cover her face. An unusual scent radiated from the cloth, filling her lungs and clouding her mind. Rhaella slumped sideways off the cot and onto the ground.

There was no mistaking the storm that reflected in Robb Stark's blue eyes the moment he received the news. Under his own protection, an attempt on Rhaella's life had been made again. Unfortunately, just as it had on many occasions now, the attackers had failed.

Grey Wind beside Robb, he glanced warily at the dire wolf before his attention was averted to a blur of white that flew past him. He stopped, watching the white dire wolf disappear from sight. How was that possible? Robb's men reported that the assassin had been slain by a beast and if Winter was just now returning, then by what beast?

He glanced down at Grey Wind, but there was no way it had been his own. Robb was certain Grey Wind kept by him through the night. That is why he was furious with his own wolf. But if it had not been Winter, then had it been Grey Wind after all?

It no longer mattered, he realized. This had happened under his care, how would she ever forgive him for this? But then had it really been his fault? Where were these men that swore their lives to her? The men he so graciously let into his camp because he believed they could protect him.

Robb resumed his walk, feeling irritated with the men he believed he could trust with the one woman he valued above all. This was their fault, not his. He had been halfway across camp. He trusted them to look after her since she refused to share his tent, they swore an oath they would. And that damned dire wolf of hers, what good had she been?

He entered her tent, stopping dead in his tracks. Rhaella laid unconscious on her cot with Winter at her feet, head resting on Rhaella's lap. Alwin had managed to arrive too, to investigate it seemed. The old knight had been kneeling beside Rhaella's cot, examining what remained left of the assassin. Not even Grey Wind was capable of this.

"Bring her back to my tent," Robb ordered, his eyes never leaving the mangled body. "And find out who sent this man."

"There can only be one person that wants her dead," Catelyn appeared behind her son, her eyes taking in the horrors of the scene before her. "They will stop at nothing, Robb, can't you see?"

With Rhaella in his arms, Winter along side him, Alwin left the tent leaving Robb and his mother alone. Grey Wind had taken to sniffing the man and everything within radius of him.

Robb turned to face his mother, his stormy blue eyes peering into her steel blue ones. He kept quiet, only turning to whistle for Grey Wind before he stormed out of the tent. 

• • •

I never realized it until now, but Grey Wind is basically as shitty as his master is. Like that dire wolf has yet to save Rhaella, meanwhile, Ghost hopped to it in a matter of seconds.

Also, apologies for being a week late. 

And if this chapter sucked.