Undone
By LolaStark

|| Chapter Five ||

It was an ache, deep and cold within her. Her bones felt as if they could snap under the pressure of mere shifting or bending of her weakened limbs. She did not know if she noticed the dryness of her throat or the pounding in her head first, but both plagued her as she attempted to wake.

She whimpered as her eyes opened, the light in the room burning into her eyes as she shut them immediately, unable to lift her arm to shield them. There was a presence in the room, she realized then, and heavy footsteps rushed towards the heavy curtains and pulled them shut. Darkness engulfed the room then and her attempt to open her eyes a second time was more of a success.

Her vision was blurred and though the figure was most assuredly male, she could not make out his features until he sat down the bed next to her and grasped her hand in his own. It was a rough hand with soft tough, and the calluses were hard at the creases of his palm. His touch was reserved but familiar, gentle but desperate. She knew his touch almost as well as she knew the scent of his doublet that was so near to her in that moment.

"Cley," she tried to whisper but the roughness in her throat only allowed for a strangled mumble that hardly left her lips before he places his fingers over them.

"Hush now," he instructed softly. "Don't try and speak. Maester Taelman says you should rest your throat. You have not used it in several days."

Several days, she pondered. How long had she been this way? She tried to recall the events that had taken place before now but as Cley sat there, holding her hand in his she could not keep her thoughts clear. Everything seemed to be racing, her head spinning and her stomach churning when suddenly she could not help herself as she keeled over, pushing through the pain of the motion as she began to gag.

Dry heave, was the more appropriate description as she desperately tried to breath and relieve her stomach of its unsettled state all at once. Another pair of footsteps was at her side then and she realized she and Cley were not alone. This figure was a woman.

Cley's hand fell from hers and it was then occupied by another, one softer and warm. The woman's slender fingers were almost as familiar as the faded auburn hair that fell down the woman's shoulders. Catelyn. The woman clenched her hand as she eased Wynafryd back up to her place in the bed, stroking her face and pushing back the younger woman's hair that now clung to her forehead, damp with sweat.

Wynafryd sighed weakly and tried not to show the discomfort in her features as her throat felt as if it was aflame. Catelyn eased her forward in order to place a few pillows behind her back, helping Wynafryd to sit up. The position helped with the pain, but had she the energy, she would have been furious at how weak she felt, unable to even sit up without assistance.

"Leave us," the woman commanded softly, looking over her head and Wynafryd ignored Cley's hesitation. He wanted her to ask him to stay, but she looked away, letting her eyes focus finally on the flames of the fireplace as they danced over the logs. No one spoke until the door closed behind him on his way out.

It might have been the look in the woman's eye, but something then reminded Wynafryd why she was in this state, why she was nearly shattered and weak. Her heart pounded at the memory, of falling to the ground, of the stone floor rough against her flesh. Of Robb and his shouts for help. She'd been poisoned. And in her thoughts she remembered Weylyn had been poisoned as well.

"Wey-" she tried desperately to say her son's name, but it was no use. Words would not form and Catelyn, too, tried to keep her quiet.

"He's well," the woman assured and Wynafryd felt relief washing over her. "The Maester was able to heal him before any ill-effects could take hold. Your condition, on the other hand has been uncertain for near four days now. We thought the worst until your fever broke last night. The Maester had nearly lost hope."

Taelman had been the Maester at Newcastle in White Harbor since before she was born. She remembered the man before he had turned grey and wrinkled and had always found him to be much warmer than the facade he wore. He had been the one there with her when she gave birth to Weylyn and she had entrusted him with that secret since.

Wynafryd searched around for a cup, looking for anything to soothe her parched throat. Catelyn found a goblet and pressed it to her lips. She coughed, the liquid stinging the raw flesh and was unable to swallow it no matter how badly she wanted to. Catelyn's brow furrowed in sympathy as she lowered the cup and placed on a table nearby.

"Robb has been trying to find out how this happened," she informed her. "He's questioned your entire staff, as well as your guards."

She wanted to believe no one on her staff would do such a thing. But Wynafryd knew that her poisoning coinciding with the King's visit was no coincidence. The familiarity of the action made her recall the time shortly after Weylyn's birth when she had feared for her life in a similar way. Only this time she realized that the attempt on her life had been deliberate then, just as it had been now. Someone not only wanted her dead, but they wanted Weylyn dead as well. She knew if that was the case, then it would be someone who knew the secret she'd kept so guarded. Very few knew of her relationship to Weylyn. So there would be very few possible culprits.

The door opened then, quickly and without warning. Wynafryd saw Robb rushing forward and Catelyn shifted back onto her feet. Robb did not waste time with pleasantries and did not bother to guard his expression as he looked down at her in relief. His eyes were tired, dark circles hanging beneath them and Wynafryd tried to reach up and touch them. But her hand barely left the bed, trembling as she lifted it high enough only to fall into Robb's.

"Robb," Catelyn scolded, rushing over towards the door and closing it away from anyone who might pass by. "Do be more careful," she insisted. "Anyone could have seen you."

"I don't care what they see," he dismissed, not taking his eyes from Wynafryd and he placed his lips to her fingers. "It is good to see those eyes, my love," he whispered to her and she did her best to squeeze his hand as her reply.

"Wey," she tried to whisper again, clearing her throat as she did so, causing her to cringe.

"Our boy is fine Wynny," he assured her and her eyes darted to Catelyn in panic. The woman must have noticed because she simply flashed her a knowing look.

"You thought I would not recognize my own grandson?" she replied, her voice low and Wynafryd couldn't help but notice that the woman's tone did not sound amused. "I may not approve of my son's irresponsibility in fathering a bastard child, but I know to what lengths you went for him during the war. I may have turned a blind eye at the time but his love for you did not go unnoticed. Seeing you with Weylyn-" she paused. "I know how a mother looks at her son."

Wynafryd sighed, her secret not as secret as she had hoped. She had always seen subtleties of Robb in her son, but even her father had told her that he favored Manderly in his coloring. Only his eyes and the faint tint of auburn in his messy curls could link him to his father. But if Catelyn recognized her son in the boy, then perhaps others could as well.

"Mother, enough. Look at her," Robb teased in response to her expression. "You're making her worry over nothing."

"Perhaps it is nothing to you," Catelyn replied with a frown. "But it is not your reputation that would be harmed. If Wynafryd is found out and Weylyn is linked as your son, there will be scandal in your court. Once word is out, the Freys will no doubt claim fault with you."

"Weylyn was born before my marriage to Roslin," he argued and from the exasperation in his voice it was clear it wasn't the first time they'd had this argument.

"And he was born to a mother who was not married. It could ruin her. It is a matter of her honor, not yours," Catelyn tried to explain.

If Wynafryd could talk she would have explained that she had little concern with her reputation. She would also steer the conversation from the matter of her honor, because it had been her decision not to marry Robb who had done his utmost to preserve her honor as his wife all those years ago. She did not glance at Robb or at his eyes which seemed to be saying those exact words.

"Wynafryd's only concern is his safety," Robb answered and Wynafryd was thankful for his honesty instead of righteousness in that moment. "She believed that Weylyn's identity as my son could be used to harm me or the kingdoms. And while I disagree, I cannot fault her for her reasoning. As always, she was looking out for me above herself."

"That may be, Robb," Catelyn interrupted. "But they way you are carrying on-" she paused, long enough to let out a very conflicted sigh. "There have been enough whispers at court that you no longer share your wife's bed. If they believe you have taken Wynafryd as your mistress, they will begin to wonder about Weylyn, especially after seeing how you have been favoring him as of late."

"He is my son, I will not ignore his existence to appease the whispers of gossipmongers," he proclaimed. Catelyn only shook her head.

"Robb-" Wynafryd attempted and he silenced her words with his mouth over hers, careless of his mother's gaze.

"Do not strain yourself for the sake of this argument, Wynny," he instructed. "I assure you no harm will come to our son. Whoever did this will pay with their life."

She nodded only because she could see the fury in his eyes. She could not argue, not yet, and until she could speak she would simply nod. Robb gave his mother a look that was pleading without words for a moment alone. She abided his wish, though from her frown she did not do so willingly.

Wynafryd did not know why she felt nervous as Catelyn closed the door behind her. She had been alone with Robb more times than she could count and never once, even upon his discovery of Weylyn. But this time she felt anxious, of both their privacy and his proximity. She quickly wondered if it had anything to do with her inability to speak. Not speaking meant she could not control the situation. She could not manipulate the conversation away from things she could not bear to hear.

"I thought-," he began though he paused when his voice cracked. "Wynafryd, when I found you the way I did, when you fell limp in my arms, I thought for sure I'd lost you." She wanted to look away, but there was such sorrow in his eyes that she could not. He held her hand to his face, the back of it to his stubbled cheek and she let her thumb graze lazily over his jawline. "I could not bear it if anything were to befall you. Not you Wynny. Not you and not Weylyn. I won't allow it."

Despite her ill state she felt her cheeks tug at the corner of her lips and she grinned as best as she could. It was weak but it was enough to ease his worry, even if only slightly.

"Sweet Robb-" she forced and it was painful but for the look she received in return, it was worth it.

"I will bring Weylyn to see you this evening, but in the mean time you must rest. I have postponed our travel-don't bother protesting Wynny it is already done. I have delayed our trip until you are well again. In the meantime, my council is investigating the poisoning and I will find out who tried to hurt you. I swear it." She nodded. She nodded because he wanted her to let him do this.

And so she would.

Roslin was resigned to allow her husband's foolishness to carry on as Wynafryd slowly recovered, but not for much longer. She could no longer ignore the whispers with any dignity and what was left of her patience had been obliterated by the rumors that she herself had poisoned the king's mistress. She couldn't ignore it any longer, she realized then. Soon she would have words with Robb and these rumors would be squashed once and for all.

She was sitting lazily in her rooms, rooms that were not initially intended for her as she'd been instructed but they would do just as well. She hadn't shared Robb's bed since long before Fiona's birth. That would have to change if she was going to get the situation under control. This situation that had once been an ideal way for her to avoid her husband's despondency, had now backfired. Soon the whispers among court would have weight and people would begin to wonder about that sweet Manderly boy with Robb's eyes.

But a bastard son was no match to a legitimate one. And if Roslin was to secure her position she would have to drive a wedge between Robb and Wynafryd.

There was a knock on her door and she didn't bother to stand as one of her ladies maids opened it, allowing Cley Cerwyn to enter. Roslin dismissed the girl then, allowing for the privacy between herself and Wynafryd's lover.

"You summoned me, Your Grace?" he asked and she smiled.

"Come and sit by the fire, Ser Cley," she insisted, motioning towards the chair directly across from her own that was placed nearest to the fire. "It is dreadfully cold here, is it not? At the very least, Winterfell's hot springs warm the castle to a more amiable temperature."

"I find it is not so bad. New Castle is much warmer than Castle Cerwyn anyways," he replied and she did not let her smile falter though she found conversation with Cley dull. "But I assume you did not ask me here to converse about the weather?"

Roslin laughed slightly.

"It is not secret, Cley, that your relationship with Lady Wynafryd has grown distant over the last few weeks," she spoke and Cley looked up at her in surprise. "Come now, there is no point in being coy about it. I've heard whispers of your affair for some time now. It is no secret. I daresay even the king knows."

"There is nothing going on between Lady Wynafryd and I," Cley argued.

"Cley, please," she giggled slightly, standing from her place as she paced by the fire.

"No, Your Grace. I speak the truth. Just last night, she informed me that our arrangement must end."

Roslin's smile faltered slightly. It was true the rumors of Cley and Wynafryd had died off since her arrival. But she had assumed it was only because of Robb's constant nearness to her. But Wynafryd ending things with Cley made things significantly more complicated. If she was no longer seeing him, it meant that Roslin's task would take more guile than she'd anticipated. But she'd always been a crafty one, she reminded herself as an idea came to mind.

"Oh yes of course. Dear Wynafryd did come to me for council on the situation," she explained artfully, so well that even Cley looked up from his depression in surprise.

"She...came to you?" he asked and she nodded.

"It was in confidence that she sought me out and though I promised I would not repeat her words, I could not bear to see the two of you separated any longer in misery," she told him, her brows furrowed in whatever false anguish she could muster.

"I don't understand," Cley replied, his confusion evident in his handsome features.

"Wynafryd explained her situation, that after hearing news of her sister's pregnancy, she feels as though she will never feel the joys of motherhood. That perhaps she will never marry and remain an old maid here in this sad castle."

Cley was taking in her words, looking down at his hands as he shook his head in disbelief. She could see him putting the pieces together, though it took much too long for her taste and her impatience began to simmer somewhere near it's limit.

"Wynafryd has always been clear that she did not want marriage, that our arrangement was not to be anything more than what it was," he stammered. "I love Wynafryd, I do. But I cannot believe that she would lie if marriage is something she truly wanted."

"There was something she said, oh what was it?" Roslin whispered loud enough so he would hear. "I thought she had mentioned something about His Grace's disapproval. You know how close they are. Their friendship is what guided him through the latter part of the war, you might recall." He nodded.

"Wynafryd would never do anything without the King's approval," Cley added. "Perhaps it is that which causes her hesitation. She believes His Grace will not approve?"

"Yes, that does sound like Wynafryd, does it not? She is the most selfless woman I know," Roslin agreed with her voice dripping in sticky sweetness as she nearly gagged on her own words. "She indeed would have to ask the King's permission to marry and as of now she is Lady Regent of White Harbor. She would abandon her responsibilities to her brother and she no doubt feels conflicted."

"But perhaps if I spoke to the King, explained that I could stay with Wynafryd until Weylyn comes of age? Perhaps then he might approve," Cley pondered. "It does make sense, as you said. Wynafryd is always trying to do what is right for the kingdoms above her own happiness."

"And now perhaps it is time she does something for herself," Roslin suggested. "She should not have to push aside her love for you any longer. If anyone deserves happiness and love, it is her."

Cley stood then, his spirits lifted as he beamed with a confident smile. He spoke quickly then, "I must speak to the King."

"Oh...let me speak to him first," she insisted. "I will let him know that you request an important audience with him tomorrow after breakfast. How does that sound?"

"Indeed, My Queen. Thank you," he replied happily, bowing to her and taking her hand in his and placing his lips over her ring.

He left her then, closing the door behind him and Roslin didn't bother to hide her victorious smile. Cley had been as easy to manipulate as she'd anticipated. If she didn't so desperately need him as part of plan she might have kept him for herself. She could not understand why Wynafryd would discard such a handsome man so readily.

Roslin walked slowly towards the door and peaked out to where two men were standing guard. They stood at the ready, for her protection Robb had once told her. But she was certain it was to keep watch over her, to let him know if any men had entered her chambers and for how long. Tonight she would save them the trouble.

"Where is my husband, Morris?" she asked the taller of the two and he glanced down at her, bowing his head.

"In his rooms, Your Grace," he replied. "I believe he has retired for the evening."

Roslin shut the door behind her before ordering them to escort her there. She walked ahead of them, both men just two lengths behind her as they made their way down the long corridor where Lord Manderly once slept. The large doors were also guarded and she stood before Olyvar, her brother, and Smalljon Umber, both who acknowledged her with a deep bow but no words.

"I have come to see my husband tonight," she announced, loud enough that a woman and her husband passing by would have plenty to gossip over at breakfast.

Neither guard moved, however. Even Olyvar looked away awkwardly when her eyes met his. She stepped closer, her mouth curved into a challenging scowl as she did so. She looked up at both of them, willing them to meet her gaze. The Smalljon was first to do so and he swallowed before he spoke.

"King Robb asked not to be disturbed, Your Grace," he answered, nodding his head once curtly.

"Perhaps you are too dimwitted to understand an order from your Queen, Ser Jon, but when I give an order, you are to abide it," she hissed and turned towards her brother. "And you, Olyvar. Perhaps you forget where your favor comes from? As you may recall, you were made the King's squire because of me and when I married him, he gave you a position on his Kingsguard."

"I was appointed Kingsguard because-"

"Silence!" she shouted. "How dare you contradict me. I may be your sister, but I am also your Queen. Now I do not care what instructions my husband gave, you will open this door before I have both of your hides!"

Both only hesitated a moment longer before opening it with reluctant sighs. It was always like this. No matter which guard was stationed outside Robb's chambers, they were foolish enough to try and stop her. The imbeciles.

As she entered the room she looked around, only to find Robb sitting at his desk and his direwolf standing from his place by the fire. Grey Wind watched her carefully as she crossed the room until Robb instructed him to lie down. The wolf did so unwillingly, falling back down on his belly with a frustrated huff. Robb was finishing his letter as Roslin let her eyes linger around the room suspiciously.

"What are you expecting to find, dear wife? Did you'd threaten my guards so you could barge in here to find me making passionate love to Wynafryd?" he asked comically, putting his quill down as he leaned back in his chair.

Roslin couldn't help but glance over towards the carefully made bed that looked like it had been untouched all day. She opted not to scold him for her treatment by her guards. Instead she opened her robe and let it drop to the floor, revealing her thin nightgown which left little to the imagination as she stood there in the firelight.

"You have neglected me for too long," she whispered, her tone inviting. She walked over to him slowly, letting him watch her as she approached him and stopped where she was looking down at him. "I want a son, Robb," she pleaded in a sultry whisper, placing her legs on either side of him as she straddled him in his chair.

He had once been a weaker man, a man who had very little in the realm of self control when it came to her requests. She would come to him like this, dressed in such a way that even his convictions and honor to his dear sweet Wynny was lost in his duty to her. He'd never before refused her.

Until now.

He lifted her easily off of him, placing her on her feet as he too stood with an impatient sigh before answering, "Go ask one of your lovers. I am sure they would be willing to oblige you."

"You're refusing me?" she asked, unable to hide her discontent.

"Does that disappoint you? Truly?" he scoffed. "You've managed well enough these last five years in finding your pleasure elsewhere. So as I said before, you want a son so badly, go command one of your manservants into your bed."

"Oh but you would like that, wouldn't you, husband?" she hissed. "You would love for me to bear another man's child so you could finally be rid of me. Make room for your precious Wynny to take my place," she started to shout.

"I am found out," he admitted, his tone full of faux disappointment. "I did never enjoy lying to you, wife," he replied with condescension, raising his wine goblet in mock toast to her.

She didn't mean to slap it out of his hands. But the second he let out his hurtful words she could not help the fury that rose within her. He did not seem bothered by the outburst, though Grey Wind did stand and rush over to his side anxiously. Robb held his hand out, calming the large beast with his touch.

"If you are here because of her-"

"This isn't about your whore," she muttered and Robb frowned, his jaw clenching at her words. "It is about your beloved bastard."

The words garnered the precise reaction she had hoped for. Robb did not know that she was very aware of his biggest shame, that Weylyn Manderly was his bastard son. And the look in his eyes when the revelation was revealed was more than enough to ease her blind rage, allowing her to fall into a triumphant demeanor. She even rewarded herself with a smile.

"Yes I know about the boy. It's not exactly Wynafryd's best kept secret," she explained rolling her eyes. "Perwyn warned me that you'd be slow to get over your first love just before our wedding. When I said I wanted her looked after-"

"Spied on, you mean?" he interrupted but she refused to acknowledge it.

"-one of my maids was sent here to New Castle. That's when she discovered Wynafryd's condition, despite how well the family tried to hide it. I've known you had a son since before he was born."

"And you never said a word?"

"So you could ride off for her? Of course not!"

"He's my son," Robb argued and again, she scoffed.

"She wanted it kept a secret as much as I did, I assure you," she informed him. His brow rose in confusion. "Oh yes, Robb, your perfect Wynny not only kept your bastard a secret but she and I have colluded for years to ensure you never discovered him. Why do you think I delayed you in coming here in the first place?"

Robb was shaking his head in disbelief, perhaps anger as well, as she spoke. He didn't want to think ill of Wynafryd. Robb liked to paint Roslin as the villain and yet his true love was just as guilty. Roslin had kept Weylyn a secret for more selfish reasons than Wynafryd. At the time she'd discovered that Robb had a son, she had yet to conceive a child of their own. For years she lived in fear of Weylyn's discovery, that he would discard her and claim his bastard as his heir.

"Be done with all of this," she whispered, stepping towards him and placing her hands on his shoulders. He flinched at the touch, his mind still reeling. "Make love to me and let us have a son of our own. One you can raise and one you won't have to be ashamed of."

"You think I'm ashamed of him?" he asked in disbelief, removing her hands. "In the short time that I have known him, Weylyn has only shown me what a good man he will become. I could never be ashamed of him. He was born out of love. Something I have never shared with you," he spat. Roslin felt her teeth clench.

"You would say such a thing, about your own daughters? Your true born children."

"My daughters are the only reason I abide your behavior," he added. "They are good and kind girls and I do love them despite what I feel for you."

He was done with her, she could see it in his eyes as he turned his back. He would try and storm out, she realized as he started in the direction of the large doors and she could not help what came out of her mouth next.

"You should know-" she started, her voice loud enough that she hoped she would be heard even outside the thick wooden doors. "Cley Cerwyn is going to ask for Wynafryd's hand in marriage."

As she anticipated, Robb's steps came to a halt. He did not turn for many moments, just standing there as the words sunk in. She felt the corner of her mouth rise in a smirk as he stood there, not moving. He could not reasonably deny the man, Wynafryd's hand. Not forever and not without good cause.

"And who gave him that idea?" he asked slowly, still staring towards the door.

"Well he came to me in a desperate state," she answered innocently. "I could not bear to see the two separated any longer because they fear your reaction."

"Don't lie to me," he hissed, spinning around quickly. "I know she has no wish to marry him."

"Well Cley certainly believes she does," she replied with a shrug. "And tomorrow when he asks you before the court, you can have little reason to deny him. The realm would celebrate such a marriage. The King's dearest friends coming together in a blissful match. It will be a wedding to remember."

"Enough," he half whispered, realizing what she said was true.

"Stop prolonging the inevitable, my dear," she insisted.

"What have I ever done to you?" he asked her then and the hurt in his eyes was apparent. "I may have not loved you the way you wanted, but you have never shown me kindness. I have abided your infidelity without question and yet you would do this to me."

"Don't pretend you are so noble, Robb. You may have once been a man to be celebrated but you are no better than anyone else. You are certainly no better than me," she replied angrily. "You are a man like any other. A man who could not bother to be faithful to his wife."

"You took lovers into our bed long before I sought to reconcile with Wynafryd," he contradicted. "You cannot blame me for-"

"Don't you see!? I do blame you! I blame you for everything!" she was shouting now. "You and your bloody obsession with that bitch ruined us before we ever had a chance. What competition was I to her? You bedded me on our wedding night with your eyes closed, wishing it was her."

"I always treated you with kindness, and decency."

"And you think a woman deserves only that?" she mocked. "It is a wonder how she ever fell in love with you in the first place. You are oblivious to the desires of women."

"I tried to love you. I could have loved you had you not been so cruel."

"Don't bother trying to convince yourself of that, Robb. We both know that's a lie. You could have never loved me and I resolved myself to that years ago. But then again, I don't think I ever loved you either. And yet now we are here. I am your wife. I am your queen. Wynafryd will marry Cley and you will give me a son to raise as your heir. I will allow you to spend time with your bastard, though I think it best for both you and Wynafryd if no one learns the truth about him. He will not be legitimized and he will not live in our home. I think you can afford me that much courtesy. Let him be Weylyn Manderly because you and I both know he can never be Weylyn Stark."

Robb did not move and did not speak for several moments. He looked across the room at her with a near defeated resolve. But after many moments he closed the space between them, so close that he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders with a touch so soft that she imagined that could feel his defeat. He leaned in, so close that she could feel his breath next to her ear as the stubble from his chin grazed her cheek.

"You do not command me," he whispered. "You think you have won here Roslin but you have not. Because, My Lady, you forget yourself. I am King. Not you."

And then he left her, standing there with only her fury to accompany her.

Despite the ache in her side, she could not stop herself from enjoying the laughter that was escaping her lungs as Weylyn continued his story. She was sitting up fine now, able to get out of bed as needed, albeit slowly. Over a week since cheating death, she found herself in a much more amiable demeanor than she had been in days. Weylyn spent most of his days with her, telling stories and helping her to finish letters which Robb had forbidden her from working on.

Weylyn had spent much of the afternoon reading letters of correspondence from the ambassadors of Essos who had returned her requests with mostly good news for their upcoming travel. Now as the hour grew late, the moon rose high in the clear night sky, neither could find cause for sleep as they reminisced in tales of the past.

"Stop, stop," she protested in between fits of laughter. "I cannot hear another or I am sure I will never breathe again."

"Then it is your turn," he insisted, trying to calm his own laughter but failing as he lay at the end of the bed. "And this time, a true story. I can tell when you're making them up. I know you've never been to Dorne nor have you fought with a sword."

"I resent that, child," she gasped in mock insult. "I have indeed fought with a sword." He gazed at her skeptically. "Perhaps it was very brief and the sword may have actually been a rather large dagger. But it might as well have been a sword for how damn heavy it was."

"And Dorne?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. She chuckled.

"No, you're right about that. I have not been to Dorne. Though I did meet Queen Arianne several years ago, as did you. But you wouldn't remember that."

"Tell me a real story. Something I don't already know," he begged and she smiled at his eagerness.

"You know all my stories, Wey," she maintained and he shook his head. "Oh? Well if you know something I do not, do share."

"You've never told me how you met the King," he asked timidly and it sobered Wynafryd just enough that she felt the laughter in her chest die down.

"Haven't I?" she asked, avoiding his eyes.

"I know how you met him as a child. But how did you meet him during the war?" her son asked and Wynafryd glanced down at her hands as her fingers fiddled nervously with the furs on her bed.

The story of her meeting with Robb was a story she had not shared with anyone, not even her sister who had begged her many times upon Wynafryd's return from war. Her sister had been so eager for the tales of love and romance, while Wynafryd was simply eager to forget them. With Weylyn growing inside of her, there was always the constant and heavy reminder of Robb somewhere in the back of her mind. There was no getting rid of the memory completely.

"I had just celebrated my sixteenth name day here at New Castle and I was already being prepared for marriage by the family. I had recently met the King's brother, Jon, at the annual festival and I was told there was a chance I would become his wife," she started, sighing heavily as she saw flashes of her young self behind her eyes. "Of course I wanted nothing to do with marriage, not right away anyhow. I'd resolved that I would but much more useful in some other manner and yet everyone, including mother, was resolved to me becoming a Stark once Jon was legitimized. They were happy times, but I could not help but find that I was restless in this life and felt as though I would never truly be useful.

The war broke out only weeks later and the King, then Lord Robb, called for his bannermen. My father was summoned to war alongside nearly two thousand of our best fighters. I knew then that this was my chance to do something other than to read about the adventures in my books. I had all this knowledge on matters of diplomacy and culture and even war as well, and I thought then I would put it to good use."

"And you weren't caught?" Weylyn asked and Wynafryd smiled.

"Not until I'd reached Greywater Watch and by then I'd traveled too far to turn back because I was discovered by a boy lord. It was several days there at camp before Robb even realized who I was and by then I think he'd already resolved that I wasn't going to be so easy to get rid of. Father wasn't entirely surprised, though he did scold me in front of the entire war council when I was dragged before them. I was so furious that I got a bit carried away in my argument to stay. By the end of it all it was put to a vote by fifteen very amused men who found that my 'spirit was quite endearing' for a young woman of my age. And while my father didn't think my presence amongst so many men was entirely appropriate, I was appointed Lord Robb's official scrivener."

"And was that when he grew fond of you?" Weylyn asked her and she felt herself chuckle.

"Gods no," she laughed. "Robb and I despised each other from the moment we met. His great direwolf knocked me from my horse and he then had the nerve to call me the clumsy one. If it weren't for my abilities I'm sure he would have sent me back to White Harbor within the fortnight. But as fortunes would have it, I was quite good at the task set before me. I spent many hours with him while he dictated letter after letter. But he was quick to learn that my talents didn't simply lie in my handiness with a quill. Soon I was present for negotiations and meetings of strategy. I had learned from my studies about great wars and battles and it was knowledge I could finally put to good use."

Weylyn seemed enraptured by the words though as she continued she could feel something bending inside of her as if it threatened to break. There was pain in these memories, each memory of laughter with Robb, of touches and smiles and whispered promises that could never be kept.

Her chest felt heavy when she talked about how one day she saw Robb in a new light, how time had passed so swiftly and war had brought hardships but also love. Weylyn could see her pain and perhaps he could hear the strain in her voice as she tried to speak and that's why he stopped her.

"Mother," he whispered when he saw her eyes beginning to water. She couldn't look up but she felt his hand on hers. "I'm sorry if I upset you by bringing it up."

She shook her head when she answered, "No darling. I have always wanted to share this with you. It's just a hard memory. The war left most of us broken and my wish is that you will never experience such darkness."

There was a small shift, a sound in the corner of the room by the door that caught both of their attentions. Wynafryd glanced up to see Robb standing there as if, perhaps, he'd been standing there for a long while. He wore a solemn expression and she wondered if he'd overheard her words.

"Your Grace," Weylyn greeted with eagerness in his tired voice. He crawled from the bed and stood just before Robb and bowed.

Robb stopped him, however, mid-bow and pulled him back up until Weylyn was standing up straight. Robb's hands lingered over the boy's shoulders, traveling up to his face for just a moment and Wynafryd forced herself to look away as the bending pressure inside of her felt moments from shattering.

She did not hear Weylyn walk out, nor did she see Robb approach the bed until he was sitting right beside her. Their fingers sat mere inches apart and though neither budged, she could tell from the way his hand twitched that he hoped she would grab his.

And she did.

"I had never heard you talk about us before," he whispered and try as she might, she could not swallow the lump in her throat. She let out a shaky sigh that was evidence enough that she was on the verge of tears.

"I could not deny our boy the story of how his parents met," she replied, tracing her thumb over the scar on the back of his hand. Battle scars, she recalled. She remembered each one. "What's wrong?" she asked him, noticing his diverted gaze.

"Roslin came to me, spouting out things I would rather not believe," he answered.

"What things?" she asked him and he shifted, lifting his hand so it slid from hers.

"She told me that she's known about Weylyn since the boy was born," he whispered, his gaze on his hands. "She told me she came to you to ensure the secret was hidden from me."

"Robb-" she tried to interrupt but he shook his head slowly.

"My wife and my lover," he brooded. "Both of you kept my son from me all these years."

"Robb please," she begged softly. "I see now the error of that choice. When she came to me I was still so young. I was scared of what might happen and I should have stood up to her when I had the chance. I wanted Weylyn to be safe, for you to be safe. But I was so foolish."

He let his eyes meet hers then and he placed his hands on her face, his fingertips grazing her jawline, down her neck and over her exposed collarbone.

"I cannot fault you," he admitted. "I can't even fault Roslin for knowing. I can only fault myself for being so blind to the truth for so long. If I'd have just come here as I wanted to, I'd have known. And I could have done something."

"There was nothing to be done then, Robb," she whispered, grabbing onto his hand with hers. "You cannot blame yourself."

"I do," he replied, this time she heard a hint of bitterness. "I blame myself for where I've put us. For how things turned out. I blame myself for not being the man you wanted. And for not making you stay. And now-," he paused, squeezing her hand in his as he pulled her towards him. His forehead was flush against hers and his eyes closed, clenched as if a desperate man.

"Robb," she spoke against his cheek. "You're scaring me. Tell me what else is bothering you."

"Wynny, I'm sorry." His voice was so soft she could barely hear him. "When she told me he wanted you I-"

"Who?"

"Cley," he nearly shouted, pushing himself from the bed in a fit of anger. "Roslin came to me, she wants to drive the wedge between us, I can see it in her eyes. And she knows so long as you are unwed, there nothing that can separate me from you. And so she convinced Cley that you love him, that you want to marry him but fear my rejection to the idea."

Wynafryd shook her head slowly as the words came flowing out. The idea of Cley, asking for her hand in marriage, believing that he was anything more than her friend with the occasional profit to their situations.

"Tomorrow he will stand before the court and ask me for your hand in marriage," he admitted finally, the words spat from his lips as if they were poison.

Wynafryd stood then as well, more effort in her movements than it had taken Robb. Robb helped her to her feet when she refused to sit back down and she forced her gaze upon his. Her eyes searched his blue ones, waiting for a solution to the problem to appear from his lips but he seemed more resigned than anything, as if all this fight he had given for her in the last fourteen years had dissolved away.

"What must we do?" she asked quickly. "Surely there is something? Something that can, perhaps delay this or-"

"I have little choice otherwise," he muttered in frustration. "The court knows of your relationship with him. They've heard the rumors. To deny him now would only arouse more suspicion."

"Robb," she warned. "You do not understand. I know what I have said before in jest. But those were just words. Cley and I...you have to understand what he is like."

"What do you mean?" he asked impatiently.

"There is-" she paused, knowing her words would only cause his anger to increase. "There is a darkness to him, a side that I have only seen briefly but I fear what could come from this."

Robb's eyes flashed, a shadow of something as his brow furrowed in concern.

"Has he hurt you?" he asked her darkly and Wynafryd nodded. "Tell me right now if he laid his hands on you and I will settle this right now."

It would be a solution she thought and she felt the darkness now rising inside of her as she let herself entertain the idea for a swift moment before shaking her head.

"No, I wouldn't let it go so far," she explained. "But he is a jealous man, obsesses over small glances or looks that he misinterprets. If he knew about us, about our past...about our son...gods Robb if he knew about Weylyn, it would destroy him. I do not know what he would do and I if it came down to it, I am not certain he could be trusted with our secret. It is a risk that I am unwilling to take."

He did not seem to consider her words, as if his mind had already come to this conclusion himself because he simply nodded.

"Is there truly no alternative," she felt herself begin to beg. "You are the King, Robb. It is your word that is law."

Robb swallowed, letting his hand trace over her arm until he pulled her fingers into his hand. He glanced down at them, each one of her fingers and let his thumb graze over the empty place where a ring once sat, a ring that had once belonged to him.

"I have only one alternative, but I cannot say that I am fond of it."

"Well?" she asked, expectantly. "What is it? Surely whatever it is you must like more than me marrying Cley."

"Hardly," he replied, his dejected heart clear in his eyes. "Wynny, the only way I can refuse Cley in front of the court is if I tell them you have already been betrothed to another."

Wynafryd's heart sank. Robb's only way to ensure she did not marry Cley was to marry her to someone else. Because of Wynafryd's carelessness with Cley, she would be forced to marry anyways.

"There is nothing else to be done?" she asked him and the suggestion in her voice pointed towards a third alternative. One that neither wanted to entertain but one that she would endure if it was her only option.

"No," he replied immediately, forcefully. "I will not make you my mistress. I cannot degrade you in such a way. The kingdoms want to see you married well. I've put this off as long as I can."

"Who then?" she asked. Robb's eyes closed as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration or dread. Whichever it was, she did not know. "Who am I to marry if not Cley?"

"If I cannot have you Wynny, then there is only one other man I can trust to take care of you," he answered. "And perhaps it was fate that led us here, as you two were nearly betrothed once before."

If it were possible, Wynafryd's heart sunk even deeper. What he was proposing would crush him. This match would ensure Robb's misery for the rest of his days and Wynafryd would forever be responsible for the void in his once warm heart. She had broken Robb Stark's heart once and now she would do it again, this time unwillingly because as Robb said, there was no other choice.

"Jon?" she whispered and Robb did not answer her though his solemn expression said it all.

There was so much pain in his eyes and Wynafryd was forced to see now that perhaps she would forever be the cause of it.

A/N: I'm sorry to keep leaving things on cliffhangers and bad news. But I hope you enjoyed it anyways. Thank you everyone who continues to read and leave love for this story. I've also just put this under RobbxOC because they don't have Wynafryd as a character (yet). But I guess the Wynafryd I've created is essentially an OC anyways at this point. Thanks everyone! Lola