CHAPTER 38 | GOOD INTENTIONS

FREYA sighed longingly.

She stared at the wasteland outside of her tent, patches of grass and mud dampened from the rain the night before. She wrapped a robe around herself and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, enjoying the fresh morning air. Robb appeared by her side and kissed her shoulder, completely unaware of the hurt inside her head.

He was the only one she had left. Selene was gone. Her brother was in who-knows-where at that point. Her father had gone mad. Even her younger sister was probably on the outs. Who did she possibly have left but Robb? It was pitiful, really.

Sometimes, if she tried hard enough, the air outside smelled of home. Freya could inhale the scent of a salty sea. She could smell the wet grass and feel the moss growing along a castle's walls. The thoughts almost made a tear form in her eye, but when she felt Robb's arms around her, with one hand slipping under the layers of her robe, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

This had to be her new home.

They helped each other get ready for the long day. They both now felt comfortable in their bareness around each other, and that was always a good sign in marriage. Freya believed that consummation of marriage was an idiotic ritual, but maybe, in some ways, it wasn't. Freya and Robb had learned to love each other through marriage, but after he finally took her flower, she had never felt more comfortable around him in her life. It was quite the satisfying feeling.

Robb was staring at the pieces on the war board when Catelyn cautiously stepped in. Freya met her mother-in-law's eyes, slowly unlocking her arms off of Robb. Catelyn cleared her throat, murmuring, "I heard the last time someone walked in here, they were screamed at to leave."

Freya snickered. "That's only because I don't like Talisa."

Catelyn smiled softly before approaching the table, staring hard at the map. She put her hands on her hips. The pieces made their plans seem highly unlikely, and Catelyn saw this. "Are you two sure about this?"

Robb and Freya glanced to each other, their eyes lingering for a moment too long. "No," Robb finally muttered.

"It's dangerous."

"If we take Tywin's castle from him," Freya explained, "the lords of Westeros will realize he's not invincible."

Robb grinned towards his wife. "Take his home, take his gold, take his power."

Catelyn's eyes flickered to her son's, and they held a sense of skepticism in them. "Why are you telling me?"

Robb paused as his wife laced their hands together and rested her head on his arm. "You begged me not to send Theon to negotiate with his father, and I ignored your advice. Now Winterfell is burnt to the ground, the North is overrun with Ironborn, and Bran and Rickon are gone. So, Casterly Rock ..." Robb lifted his brow. "I'm asking your advice."

"Well," Catelyn sighed, "additionally, you married an Ironborn in the process."

"But that is an instance I'll never regret."

Freya smiled proudly at her husband. Even through her crooked teeth, Robb appreciated her lovely features.

Catelyn looked back at the war board. She took a moment to deliberate before asking, "We have enough men?"

Freya picked up a piece that symbolized the Twins, twirling it around in one hand. "If Walder Frey cooperates."

"If Walder Frey cooperates," Catelyn repeated with a surprised expression. "If reinforcements arrive from King's Landing before we take the castle, we'll be caught between Tywin's army and the sea." She indicated the places with her hands.

Robb nodded. "We'll lose the war and die the way father died."

"Or worse," Freya added, setting the piece down on the map again. "Our mangled corpses could be sent to our family's doorsteps," she whispered in a daze, "just like my brothers."

Catelyn's nostrils flared. She thought over their plan for a minute more, picking up a lion piece. Slowly, but surely, Catelyn stared into their eyes. "Show them how it feels to lose what they love."

Freya and Robb's eyes met again. They swallowed hard, but the two knew exactly what they had to do.

•••

Grey Wind trotted ahead of the army. Robb led the group of banner men into the Twins, the land of House Frey. With a sigh, Freya followed, not realizing the Blackfish was riding beside her. She turned her head, but didn't meet his eyes, for he was staring ahead of them at the castle. "Splendid day for an argument," he drawled, "don't you think, Your Grace?"

Freya shrugged. "I'm hoping for things to go smoothly, but that's like asking for a miracle with Lord Frey."

"I cannot protest on that," Brynden laughed. He paused, overthinking his next statement. "If you don't mind me asking, did both you and my nephew really have your marriage arranged? I've heard conflicting reports."

She frowned slightly. "Yes, and you'd be surprised to know that we hated each other only a year ago."

The Blackfish was taken aback. "So how did this come about? Forgive me, but I'm so curious how an Ironborn like yourself got roped into a marriage with a Stark."

Freya bit her lip. "Well ..." She paused. "My brother and I were wards to the Starks since the Greyjoy Rebellion, constructed by my father. When we entered this war, we sent my brother back to the Iron Islands to retrieve ships from my father to sail to King's Landing. My father ended up rejecting the terms and I haven't heard from my brother since. Then, the marriage was arranged out of spite towards my father." Her grip on the reins grew tighter as she looked at the eerie castle of the Twins. "The Northern lords didn't exactly think their revenge plot through."

"Do you love him now?"

Freya glanced over at the elder man, before looking over her shoulder at Lady Catelyn. "I –" She cleared her throat. "Yes."

"Good," Brynden smiled.

The two were silent for a moment. Freya enjoyed this, riding beside the one and only Blackfish, and being able to relish in a friendly moment with him. These were the type of moments that made her new life worth it. She had learned and grew so much. Freya was much happier with the person she was now.

The air was heavy and foggy, but seeing the grass and trees a lush green gave Freya an obscene amount of joy. She inhaled, enjoying the fresh scent of the land and lake. It took a lot to sit back and appreciate the silence of nature while in the midst of a war.

"Your Grace," he spoke up again, and the title still made Freya nervous, "who ... who exactly suggested for your arranged marriage to my nephew?"

She quirked a brow upward. "I believe it was Lord Bolton who pushed the offer forward."

Brynden's eyes narrowed, though he still looked ahead. "I don't trust that Roose Bolton. His actions never seem with good intention."

Freya swallowed hard, her vision instantly going to her husband leading the front of the army. "What exactly are you saying, my Lord?"

"I don't know, quite frankly," Brynden huffed before glancing to the queen beside him. "If my assumptions are correct, I'm afraid Lord Bolton has ultimately fucked you right over."