CHAPTER 24 | NEVER TRUST A GREYJOY

ROBB and Freya marched through their camp together, hand in hand and as one. Both strode in their battle armor, nodding to each of the banner men that addressed them as, "Your Grace." Freya was still getting used to the name. She hadn't heard it in the long time; not since she lived at Pyke, and that was only on occasion. When she was a ward at Winterfell, the name had thus stopped, but now it was as if she'd been reborn.

Robb shook hands with his men, as his guards followed behind them. Freya also requested that Selene follow their lead as they walked. She wanted her with her at all times. Robb smiled to the men in his army, and Freya graciously thanked them for their cause. One of the banner men had said, she was "the greatest Queen to have ever walked," and it had only been a few days since the wedding. She must have been doing something right, but she wondered what.

She and Robb were now husband and wife, but they did not dare touch each other. She shed away from him during the dark hours of the night, even though they now shared a tent. They never kissed, but it wasn't like they wanted to anyways. They were civil, though, and most did not believe that this marriage was for love, so they did not feel the need to glorify it.

Robb picked up one of his guards' helmets and handed it back to him with a smile. This new Robb was odd, but it was something new to her and she appreciated the change. He stopped their walking to stare at a woman ahead, who sat with a quill and piece of parchment in her lap. Robb's hand slowly slipped away from Freya's, and he began to walk faster than her. "Lady Talisa," he greeted, and Freya instantly recognized the female healer from the Battle of Oxcross.

Talisa looked over her shoulder. "Your Grace," she nodded her head before looking to Freya, "and Your Grace. I'm not sure if I'm a Lady. Westerosi customs are still a bit foreign to me."

Freya patted her handmaiden, requesting that she retreat back to her tent for proper rest. She then smiled towards the healer, but Robb flattered her statement, "It's hard to keep all the rules straight. But if I remember my lessons, a woman of noble birth is always called a Lady, unless she's a Queen or a Princess. I could find someone who knows."

Freya glanced at Robb in a skeptical manner. He was staring at this woman like she was a gift from the Gods. She blew out a sigh and looked away. How many women did he expect to marry?

"Why are you so sure I am of noble birth?"

Robb laughed. "Because it's obvious."

Freya viewed at him with a brow raised. "Are you that much of a git?"

Her statement caused Talisa to chuckle as she stood from her spot. "What if I told you my father sold lace on the long bridge and my mother, my brother, and I lived with him above our shop?"

"I'd call you a liar," Robb replied, clearly having not listened to his wife's words.

"Not very noble to accuse a lady of dishonesty," Talisa muttered with a grin. "I always thought I was a brilliant liar."

Freya beamed at the healer. "I'm afraid you're better at amputations, my Lady."

Robb noticed the two were sharing a moment, causing him to narrow his eyes. "Will we be here long?" Talisa asked.

He noticed Freya was going to answer, and instead, Robb took a step in front of her. "I couldn't really discuss troop movements with you." He gestured to Freya then. "That's more of a conversation for me and my co-leader."

"I'm not a spy," Talisa laughed.

"Of course, a spy would deny being a spy."

Talisa began to beam. "You're right. You've found me out. I'm writing a letter to the Lannisters: 'The Young Wolf is on the move.'"

Robb looked down, chuckling at her comment, before staring at the healer again. "Perhaps you'd join me –" He glanced at Freya, who was quirking a brow upward. "I mean, us. Perhaps you'd join us – me and Queen Freya, because I now –"

"– Have a wife," Talisa finished for him, causing Robb to nod.

Freya patted her husband's shoulder, making a path to walk away when she saw a familiar face striding towards them. "Robb," Lady Catelyn called. "Freya."

"Mother," Robb smiling, pulling her into a hug.

Here was their undoing, Freya realized. Lady Stark was surely going to kill them. "Lady Catelyn," she greeted, hugging her just the same before Robb dragged her to meet Talisa.

Freya looked up to realize that Catelyn led her handmaiden and another woman behind her, a tall blonde that was clad in beautiful, golden armor. While Robb was busy practically introducing his mother to yet another wife, Freya laid out her hand in front of the lady knight. "Who might you be?" She asked, shaking the knight's hand.

"Brienne of Tarth, my Lady." The blonde woman replied, rather skeptical. "And you're Lady Freya of House Greyjoy. Your father never hesitated to write to King Renly about who would forever be the King of the Iron Islands."

Freya nodded slowly. "My father had never been a fan of King Renly."

"And neither I for Balon Greyjoy," Brienne said curtly, before following behind Lady Stark. Freya furrowed her brow, eyeing Catelyn's handmaiden, who shrugged at the comment.

"I've missed you," Robb said once they had walked away from Talisa.

Catelyn rolled her eyes as they approached Freya. "Yes, you looked positively forlorn." She patted Freya's shoulder. "What have you been letting him get into, Lady Freya?"

Freya and Robb's eyes went wide when they met, and before she could respond, Robb said, "You surprised me, that's all. I didn't think I'd see you today."

Catelyn caressed her son's cheek for a moment. "I wish that you were free to follow your heart." She sighed. "You have inherited your father's responsibilities. I'm afraid they come at a cost."

"I know," Robb groaned, leaving Freya petrified at how they were going to break the news to her.

Lady Stark interrupted him. "You are promised to another. A debt that must be paid."

"Yes," Freya agreed, "about that –"

"About what?" Catelyn asked, eyes darting to the Greyjoy girl.

Robb put out his hands. "Now, before you begin to scream, I must preface our actions." He said, causing Freya to close her eyes at his idiocy. "We needed ships, and as much as you refused for me to create a pact with Balon Greyjoy, we sent out terms over anyways. He rejected them, and Theon hasn't returned since. Lord Bolton suggested revenge, because he had neglected us for his selfish reasons. The only way to piss him off was –"

"We're married," Freya finished for him.

Catelyn's eyes looked like they were going to blow out of their skull. She grabbed hold of her son's arm tightly. "Why would you do such a thing?! And for revenge? You are to marry a Frey girl!"

"This was for war, mother." Robb replied, as calmly as he could. "There was no term that said I couldn't have a second wife. Lord Bolton assured this."

Catelyn's mouth dropped. "And Lady Freya is okay with this nonsense?!"

Freya glanced to Robb. "It's not as if this is a real marriage. We're not in this to learn to love each other."

"Every marriage is real if it is witnessed by the Old Gods," Catelyn hissed. "I cannot believe you two would listen to these greedy lords and sell yourselves off –"

Lord Bolton approached the scene, almost hesitantly. "Your Grace," he called, causing Robb and Freya to turn. "News from Winterfell."

•••

"This cannot be true."

Freya plucked the letter from Robb's hands, reading over the words. It seemed as if her family was growing worse and worse by the days. She set down the letter in front of Robb and rested her hand on his armored shoulder, breathing out a long sigh. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she did not let them shed. She refused to.

"We've had ravens from White Harbor, Barrowton, and the Dreadfort." Lord Bolton replied, standing in front of Robb's table. "I'm afraid it is true."

Robb looked down at the letter again. "Why? Why would Theon –"

"Because the Greyjoys are treasonous whores," Roose muttered, watching Freya narrow her eyes at him. Her left hand was now set on her sword. "With the exception of our Queen, of course."

"That's what I thought, my Lord," Freya sneered.

Robb viewed back at Roose. "My brothers?"

"We've heard nothing of them," Lord Bolton said, "but Rodrik Cassel is dead."

Freya rubbed at her eyes as Catelyn continued to pace in back of her. This could not be her reality, but it was. Catelyn pointed her finger at her son. "I told you: never trust a Greyjoy!"

Freya turned, exclaiming, "Excuse me!" She huffed loudly. "Do not blame the faults of one person on my entire house!"

"He's still your brother," Roose reminded in a low voice.

Robb rubbed at his chin. "I must go North at once."

He began to get up from his table, causing Freya to chase after him. "There's still a war to win, Your Grace," Roose then shouted. He stepped in front of his King, who now being gripped by Freya.

"How can I call myself King if I can't hold my own castle?" Robb roared back at the lord. "How can I ask men to follow me if I can't –"

"You are a King," Lord Bolton replied, "and that means you don't have to do everything yourself."

Freya tugged at her husband's armor. "Let me go and talk to Theon," she suggested. "He is my brother, after all. My father has a tendency to get underneath his skin, but I can get him back. He'll listen to me, I know it."

"There will be no talk." Robb shook his head. "He will die for this."

"You will not!" Freya argued, causing him to turn to him. "Over my dead body, Stark."

Robb's eyes went wide. "Your brother has taken my castle! He has my brothers, and my people! I will not stand for this, Freya!"

Freya's mouth dropped at his statement, but she could not respond. Lord Bolton continued, "Theon holds the castle with a skeleton crew. Let me send word to my bastard at the Dreadfort. He can raise a few hundred men and retake Winterfell before the new moon." He put his hand on Robb's shoulder. "We have the Lannisters on the run. If either of you march all the way back North now, you'll lose what you gained. My boy would be honored to bring you Prince Theon's head."

"Tell your son, Bran and Rickon's safety is paramount." Robb exhaled. "And Theon ... I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why. And then I'll take his head myself."