The Bite of Winter

Robb

The room was so thick with Frey's, Robb could barely breathe. They conjugated around the bride and groom, carrying them towards their chambers. Songs were shouted, rather than sung, by the men as the bedding ceremony commenced. 

Robb looked to Jeyne, thanking the old gods and new that he didn't have to take part in such activities on his wedding night. His father had banned the bedding ceremony when he wed his mother due to the nature of it. Robb's stomach twisted at the thought of Jeyne being stripped by strangers for 'tradition'. 

Theon seemed to be enjoying the tradition so much that Robb had to stop him from following the crowd. 

The room began to clear, leaving his mother, Jeyne, Theon Greyjoy, Roose Bolton, Jon Umber, Walder Frey, and a score of his sons. 

The song shifted from that of 'The Maiden and the Bear' to a somber song. A song that had been used for decades to spark fear in the hearts of Tywin Lannister's enemies. The song was the promise that "A Lannister always pays his debts". 

And who are you? The proud lord said that I must bow so low?

His eyes shot to his mothers. Her blue eye's wide with panic as realization set in. Shouting began as arrows were released. One his Robb's shoulders, but he didn't even feel the pain as adrenaline flooded his system. More arrows were shot at him. Robb prepared himself for the fatal blow, but it never came. Theon stood in front of an arrow and gone through his body, the head sticking out of his chest. "Theon?" Robb rasped as blood poured from his mouth.

'The boar can keep his tusk, and the bear his claws. Nothing is half so mortal as a grey goose feather.' Theon had once told him. With his friend- no brother- dead, Robb's attention turned to his wife.

Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.

Robb rushed to Jeyne, but an arrow lodged itself in her throat. He didn't hear his scream, but he must have let one loose as his throat ached when he finally reached her. Tears flooded his eyes as he watched her features soften as life left her body. He couldn't move. He could hear the fighting, the killing, and the dying, but he couldn't move.

A coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. 

He felt arms wrap around him and drag him to cover. Someone had flipped a table on its side to protect them from arrows.

"Robb?" His mother whispered, her fingers cradling his cheeks, forcing his eyes away from Jeyne. He met her terrified blue eyes. His mind cleared, they needed to escape. 

And mine are long and sharp my lord, as long and sharp as yours. 

The doors of the great hall burst open, Bryden Tully fighting his way in. That was their chance. His uncle was giving them the gift of an opportunity and he would be damned if he didn't take it. He grabbed his mother's hand and began to drag her towards the doors, Jon Umber following at their heels. 

And so he spoke, and so he spoke. That lord of Castamere, But now the rains weep o'er his halls with no one there to hear. 

They made it past the doors. "Go, your grace. I will hold them off." Umber grabbed a broad sword off of a dead man's corpse. 

Robb stopped, he couldn't leave his Bannerman to die. 

"Go!" Umber bellowed. Robbs mind was too foggy to think straight, his mother began to drag him. The clarity that he had moments ago was gone. Thoughts of Jeyne and Lord Umber swirled in his mind. 

They raced through the halls, Bryden cutting down the occasional Frey. Robb had no idea where they were going. He had no memory of the castle and its layout. All he could remember was the blood streaming down Jeyne's neck. 

He didn't quite know when he started to run ahead of his mother, their hands still entwined. His body jerked to a stop when he felt her halt. Roose Bolton had caught up with them. He now held a knife to his mother's throat. 

"Please," Robb whispered hoarsely. Bolton's pale eyes seemed to gleam.

"The Lannister's send their regards," Bolton said, his voice never going beyond a whisper. The blade cut through Catelyn's throat until the bone was exposed. 

Animal instinct took over Robb as he launched himself at Roose Bolton. The men rolled around on the slick bloody floors, fighting over the knife. Rage fuelled Robb, but his wounds were taking a toll.

He could hear his uncle yelling in the background, but he didn't care to figure out what his words meant. All that mattered was killing Roose Bolton. He managed to get the knife from the older man and plunged it through his eye. It didn't make Robb feel any better. He expected that it would, but it didn't. 

Rough hands pulled him off of Bolton's corpse and he was racing through the castle again with his uncle. They finally reached a doorway. The chaos outside was worse than that inside the stone walls. Blood mixed with mud, fire consumed his army's tents, men lay dead and dying all around. 

"This way." Bryden drew Robb's attention to the task at hand. They ran to the stables, where Greywind was howling. Relief flooded Robb. He had lost so much already if he had lost Greywind as well... He stopped himself. He couldn't think of that right now.

Bryden pulled a horse from its stall. "Get on." He commanded and Robb obeyed. He mounted the large black hunting horse, barely able to sit up straight due to the wounds. Whatever had kept him going had finally run out. 

"Listen to me carefully, we don't have much time. Go to the wall, your bastard brother might be able to conceal you at the very least." Bryden whispered to him, eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the Frey's to find them. "Hide yourself. Don't trust anyone. Once I release Greywind, put your heel into that horse, and don't look back." 

Robb managed a nod. His uncle walked to the stall that Greywind was trapped in and released the great dire wolf.

"Go!" Bryden yelled and used the flat side of his sword to send the horse forward. The horse lurched into a gallop, Greywind racing beside him. Robb's world blurred and the world went dark as they entered the forest. It took all of his strength to stay on. 

The horse weaved the trees until they reached a clearing, where Robb slowed the beast into a rhythmic canter, that lulled him into rest as they traveled north.