Winter is Coming (A Game Of Thrones Fan-Fic) (ON HOLD)

2. Winter Is Coming

A-N- Video is just so you can hear Brooke's voice sorta

Brooke Frey, of fourteen years, was only one of a substantial quantity of Lord Walder Frey's children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. She shared her room with two other girls who came from the same mother as her as well as five who came from different women. Brooke was taller than the other girls her age and far more beautiful. She had medium length brown hair and deep brown eyes. Her smile was thoughtful and not always present, but even her scowl seemed beautiful. She was a quiet girl; but nobody knew it was because she was watching. She watched and listened and always did as she was told. But when she did speak, her voice was sweet and raspy- not too high and not too deep.
"Brooke!"
She cringed from her great grandfather's loud voice. It seemed that he always was yelling at somebody- not like that was unlikely seeing as how many Freys there were too yell at.
"Yes, great-grandfather?" Her raspy voice was soothing compared to his.
His small, pink face and tiny eyes peered around the door frame.
"You weren't in my sitting room today with the others."
"I'm sorry. I was outside and I-"
"Enough!" Brooke cringed from his harsh voice and then from the eery smile that crept over Lord Frey's face, "Pack your things, Baby Brooke, you're off to Winterfell."
"What? Why?" Apparently she'd missed more than just a boring sit down with her grandfather...
"You are the lucky one whose going to marry The Wolf Lord- Robb Stark." Something about his tone made her feel like she wasn't exactly that lucky.
Slender brows pinched together in confusion and lips slightly parted, she crossed to her wardrobe and immediately started packing. Walder Frey's satisfied chuckle echoed back in her mind as she continued on packing to please the Lord.
Robb Stark. I am marring Robb Stark.
She vaguely remembered an auburn haired boy standing next to a lord with a solemn face and coal black hair.
Had Robb Stark changed any? Or was he still the little boy with the auburn hair?
She didn't have long to wonder about that- she would be finding out in a few days.
The next morning, she said her goodbyes to her family and promised her Lord that she would honor the agreement made and would do everything to please the young Lord. The promises she uttered were just that- Lord Frey didn't care whether the Starks were pleased so long as he got what he wanted.
Brook mounted her horse and sent it into a light trot- not bothering to look back. She had a small smile playing on her lips and her eyes were set on the horizon, waiting until she could see the banners of Winterfell. She was never going to look back at the family she left behind- just to the adventures ahead of her.

Her fingers were practically frozen to the reins and her teeth ached from being struck together so rapidly. When she had set out for Winterfell she hadn't realized just how cold it would be and just how far North Winterfell really was. Her slender arms were a touch blue from the wind that slipped under her not-warm-enough cloak. Finally, after her long days of traveling, Brooke saw what would be her new home. Crossing over the bridge, the grey and white of the Stark flag blended in well with the dreary appearance around them. But the snarling Direwolf of their house made Brooke think that too many people under estimated the Starks.
Brooke slid off her white horse and followed a line of Stark guards through the stone halls and into the main hall. Dozens of wooden tables were pushed to the sides of the room, leaving the middle open. At the end of the hall, on the high seats was Lady Catelyn Stark and a man with brown-auburn hair.
Brooke's lips parted slightly in awe of the man that he had grown into.
"Lady Stark," she did a slight curtsey, "You do me a great honor."
"We are honored as well, Brooke Frey. I trust that you remember my son."
Brooke turned her eyes back to the Lord sitting at Catelyn's left. The auburn haired boy was nowhere to be seen; in his place was a tall man with blue eyes, and auburn-brown hair, as well as a mustache and facial hair of the same color; he had the Tully face.
"My Lord," she breathed.
"Lady Frey," he gasped back.
"Look at you, dear. You're blue as ice!"
"And just as cold," Brooke laughed back. She stared at her bare arms- still not able to feel the heat from the roaring fires. Her shoulders were covered by a satin dyed the color of a plum. She dreaded her appearance since she hadn't slept in a proper room since she left the Twins and she has been riding all day long.
"We'll have some new clothes made for you; ones that will better suit the weathers of the North."
"Thank you, my lady," Brooke rasped out and bowed her head.
Catelyn put her hand on Robb's arm and almost un-noticeably, tilted her head towards Brooke. Robb rose from his seat and walked down the steps to stand in front of her.
"Brooke," he kissed the top of her hand, "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Robb Stark."
"I'm sure you must be tired from all of that riding," Catelyn voiced, "Robb will show you to your room so that you may rest."
"Of course. Thank you, my Lady."
Brooked followed dutifully behind Robb as he exited through the doors and made his way surely through each hall. Brooke wondered how she was going to find her way around without him or one of the other Stark guards to lead her. As they reached the heavy door, Robb pushed it open and said his farewells to Brooke.
Neither of us wants this, she thought to herself before going inside to clean herself up.

Now that she was just a bit warmer, and looking far more refreshed, Brooke stepped out of her room with one of her ladies in a gown with sleeves to cover her arms. She wasn't quite as warm as she wanted to be but she was close to feeling her fingers again.
Having no knowledge of Stark family history, she ventured to the library to inquire about it with Maester Luwin. He kindly welcomed her and directed her to a shelf with large, dusty volumes all on the Stark family. Following her duty to the family that would be hers, she opened the first volume and flipped through the yellowed pages that were as dry as twigs in the desert.
Her interest being piqued, she skipped ahead to the newest volume to the pages about Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Brooke had heard wonderful things about Ned- his strength, wisdom, sense of justice, kindness. Brooke decided right then and there that Lord Eddard would be her hero and she would treasure him as her own father once Robb brought him back home from the bowels of the Red Keep.

A smile on her face, the chosen bride walked down the quiet stone halls of Winterfell and into the main room. Robb was speaking with the most trusted lords of his army, a large wolf at his heels. The wolf pinned back its ears and growled low.
"Grey Wind," Robb snapped, "Enough."
The wolf quieted immediately.
"What is that?" Brooke gasped, unable to take her eyes from the creature.
"A Direwolf," he answered as he glanced her way.
Brooke went to stand by Lady Catelyn until a messenger burst through the door carrying a wooden box.
"My Lord, my Lady," the servant bowed.
"Who sent this?" Robb asked as a sour look crossed his face. Brooke scrunched up her nose in disgust of the smell coming from it.
"It comes from Kings Landing -though a regular road traveler brought it here; he insists he doesn't know what's inside."
Robb glanced at his mother before lifting the top off the box.
An overpowering odor spread through the room as Lady Catelyn shrieked and then fell back, crying in fear. Robb's face was a perfect mix of shock, disbelief, and boy-ish horror as he too stepped back.
Brooke crept closer to the box and peered inside. Her mouth dropped open at the sight before she was pulled back by Stark guards and Robb's lords took her place. Her hopes crashed and broke- her hero was dead.
Inside the box was the half flesh eaten head of Lord Eddard Stark.
She heard the lords giving their regards to Lady Catelyn and then saw them surround Robb with maps and battle plans.
The Stark's had been right- from the beginning. They were always thought over cautious and were laughed at...
Lord Stark himself had used these same words so famously; the words that were those of his house, and the ones that Brooke would become a part of.
Her lips formed the whispered words that got lost in the hall of loud voices and never ending cries, "Winter is coming."