I know. I know. Robb's been gone for a really long time and maybe people are over it... But I am definitley not! And I've already read through most of the Robb fics on here so here it goes. I hope you guys like it!

Chapter One: Ravens and Wolves

They were shooting down our ravens.

"They don't trust us," my father hissed, his milky eyes running over the rivers and bridges that separated the Starks from the Frey's. His fingers bit through the folds of Joyeuse's skirt, causing her to jerk forward a bit as my father snarled like an old, wounded dog.

Pity mixed strongly with disgust as I watched my father's bony fingers pinch my new mother's rump. My eyes drifted along her average build, up to her average face with its solemn expression of indifference firmly cemented. At sixteen, I came in at being one years older than her.

A true accomplishment.

"Forgive me…" my eldest brother, Stevron murmured, hesitantly stepping forward from the throng of sons that had gathered around my father on the balcony. "But haven't we been trying to send raven's through to King's Landing since they arrived?"

My father's hand flew out, sending Stevron's head whipping to the side and my other brothers to twitch in meek acknowledgment. "Do I look like an imbecile? Do you think I need you to question my actions, you impudent little shit? WE ARE FREY'S! We have held this bridge for 600 years and I will be damned if I have some little pretty boy dressed in his father's armor come and dance across my bridge like it's his fucking nameday!"

Stevron's cheek was going purple, a small cut glistening red in the setting sun.

"Milady?" Gwenyth, the maid I was working with looked up at me curiously, her fingers still clutching at the damp rag in her hands as she waited for me to continue my thought. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my head. Joyeuse was but fifteen and had come from the fields. She didn't know to to run a household and my other sisters thought it beneath them. The job had fallen to me.

"Bring more candles into the halls and set the torches and lamps lining the bridges ablaze before night," I instructed, gathering my skirts as I headed swiftly across the great hall toward my brother. "I want the Starks to know that they can be watched even in the dark."

"Milady-" I held up a hand as I passed by the other servants, silencing them as they hurried toward me with furrowed brows. We were preparing for the arrival of a Great House and I seemed to be the only one willing to accommodate him. Agitated, my nose twitched as I stepped onto the raised landing that led out to the balcony.

"Willa," Stevron whispered, his voice cracking as his eyes flicked warily from our father to me and then back again and I gently dabbed away the blood and then flicked a finger at a serving girl.

"Ointment," I murmured, moving on to tip his head this way and that as the girl scurried away.

"Ah, Willa," my father sighed, his jaw working although his eyes never left the shore just beyond our bridges. I could see them gathered there - a mass of darkness and hunger crouching at our gates. There was nothing to hide them - no forest to shadow their approach only brush and grass and the slight slope that brought the earth to kiss water. My father's eyes snapped as the light from the setting sun caught them. "You aren't as dull as these buffoons - what do you think of the Starks?"

My jaw worked, my eyes flicking around the suddenly tense faces of my brothers. When we had been little, I had felt sorry for them. I had pitied them because my father had never shown me and my other full blooded brother and sister the spite that he had given my other siblings. This right was given to me by blood alone. Out of eight wives my father had only loved one. My eyes wandered to the groping hand that my father still had on Joyeuse's rump. Or at least he loved her to the full extent of what he thought the emotion warranted.

"Willa?" My father barked, his brows tipping down slightly.

I mulled over my answer for a moment, taking the time to rub the ointment that a serving girl had come back with across my brother's jaw and cheek. "I think that he is a Stark and he has won the support of a great many men to his cause."

At this, my father scoffed.

"And also that we are pledged to his mother's house," I continued on, my eyes narrowing as I screwed the ointment shut and placed it into the waiting hand of a servant. I turned fully to face my father, clasping my hands in front of me. My mind worked tiredly. "He needs us, father. Our Crossing is the only way to and from the South and the North."

"My bridge is not a play toy-" My father suddenly roared, a vein in his head pulsing as he raged, his bony fist slamming down into the rock of the balcony. I watched him, my exhaustion only growing at his prickly nature.

"We will demand payment," I cut him off, lowering my head demurely as his eyes snapped to me, obviously flabbergasted at my impudence at interrupting him. "We have always asked for payment and received just that. I'm sure that Lord Stark is… more perceptive than most at the moment... Maybe even desperate."

The last bit was added almost as an afterthought but oddly enough it seemed to have the most impact.

For a moment, there was silence. Distantly, I heard the waters of the River Trident slap against the stones of The Twins. Then my father's shrill laugh filled the halls, his head tossing back as he howled.

"Just like your mother," he chortled, patting my cheek lightly as he turned to hobble to his own throne in the center of the great hall.

"Father," one of my brothers said helplessly as the whole mass of men filed past me, some shooting me thankful glances and others filled with out and out hostility. My eyes caught the familiar golden brown of my brother's, a silent conversation passing between us as he walked slowly past. Briefly, his fingers touched mine, an ash brown curl falling into his eyes before he was joining the rest of our brothers where they were gathered around our father.

My brother and I were eerily alike, both in manner and in appearance. When we were children many of the maids and others had said that we were twins since we were only a year at the most apart. Corlin and Willa - both born to the same noblewoman and both with the same quiet authority to their names. I turned, staring across the great hall as I watched my brother's slim shoulders flex beneath the thick wool of his coat. When we had been little, he had been pushed around for looking so frail; his eyes too big and his voice too soft when speaking to anyone but me. Now, it seemed to be what everyone liked most about him.

The women of the house and even the men had long since said that we should have been married off. What did a good figure give a girl like myself, I mused, turning to the balcony once more and catching the clean breeze from the lake below.

When we were smaller, my brother and I had been more than willing to indulge in fantasies. Children with the love of parents but little of their attention are very good at such things. We would build forts and hide in the stables, slip along the walls of the keep to the rocks that reached to the river below. We pretended that we were ship wrecked. We pretended that our mother and father were looking for us and we must - we must get to them.

The only way would be to cross the bridge.

"Everyone pays the toll," Colin would whisper to me, his face shadowed as we hid beneath the steps of the watchguards tower. Our feet, bare and frozen scraped along the dirty, straw covered stones as we shuffled to get a look of the endless bridge ahead of us. We could see it just out the window, the stone glistening off the bridge like it was straining, sweating under the effort of standing for so long. Colin would grab my face, his eyes wide even as I wrinkled my nose, trying to tug away his grimy fingers.

"Frey's don't pay," I hissed, my small fingers curling around his wrists as I glared up at him. "Daddy says we're the one's who ask for the toll."

Back then, I had assumed that that made us better than others.

"Bird brain," he would hissed right back, flicking my forehead and causing me to lash out childishly with an angry kick to his shins. I had always hated it when he called me that. It was hypocritical since all our siblings called him that too. I hated it because it reminded me that far from being tame and soft like Freya's, or silky like Roslin's, our hair was matted, coarse like the mane of horses and a kind of mahogany brown that was anything but unique. Our other siblings said that birds could nest in it, it was so thick and messy. "Stupid! You have to pay the price too!"

I would huff, my face going red as I glared at him. But eventually I would always concede. Straightening, I dropped my crossed arms and tried my best to stare down the bridge of my nose at my brother like the Septa had taught me. "I shall give what every maiden gives - her love."

Colin snorted, his eyes dubious as they swept over me. "You're too ugly for anyone to want that."

I raged, my cheeks flushing as the freckles there popped out angrily. I responded violently to all things that usually had to do with my brother. Even love. Punching him in the arm, I sneered, my button nose that I had always despised and my chubby cheeks wrinkling and inflating like I was a balloon being puffed up. "Love is blind, bird brain!"

"Not for men it isn't," Colin snapped back. "And you're uglier than a pile of rocks!"

I shrieked, wailing like a banshee as I leapt after him, his feet plodding through the puddles of rain as he sprinted for the keep.

He had been right. Men did not love like women. They would take the gardener's daughter or the wrench in the tavern if she had a pretty face. I was under no illusions.

My eyes narrowed on the distant flicker of Robb Stark's banners. I scoffed, shaking my head as I turned to attend a maid that had been hovering nervously by me with a list of meals for the upcoming week. I had heard tales of what this Stark could do. My mind flashed to Roslin's words just that morning, her eyes feverish as she recounted a tale that one of her maids had let slip. She had said that there was word of Lord Stark's wandering hands.

But most liked to talk. They also said that he ate the hearts of those that wronged him. Whether his hands wandered or not was none of my concern.

"The Stark's meal?" the maid blinked up at me, her eyes questioning as I nodded.

"There will be a feast if he is to make a bargain with my father," I murmured, quickly writing down a list of the courses.

"Desperation!" My father was howling, his teeth yellowed and wobbling in their gums evident as he cackled, slamming his fist against the armrest of his throne. "Desperation makes Kings into beggars. And far from being a King, we're getting a boy. Gertard, bring me my daughters! We're going to be celebrating a wedding!"

The quil in my hand snapped, ink splattering along my dress and dribbling down my fingers. Dull shock ran through me. Maybe somewhere deep inside I had been hoping that my sisters and I would not be on the table for bargaining with the Starks. I had been foolish. Gritting my teeth, I turned to catch sight of the Stark family banner whipping through the wind. No, I wasn't under any illusions now. Robb Stark would be wed to one of my sisters.

My brother's eyes caught mine from across the room, his lips tight as he jerked his head slightly.

Robb Stark would bed one of my sisters. I took a breath. Or myself. There was a chance - if a slim one - that out of the women that he could choose, he would choose me. The thought of having a man - any man that had lain openly with another, who had allowed others to know that he had given his heart - lay with me was physically repulsive.

At all costs, I would need to avoid it.

This is just kind of a tester. I don't know how active this fandom is and I'm kind of a little wary to start a new fic if I don't get any feedback. Usually my chapters are about 15 to 30 pages long so this is definitely a way for me to gage what's going on. SO please follow and favorite if you want to see more. And REVIEW! I love reviews.