ROBB STARK

The engagement had been arranged long before Eddard Stark ever rode south.

Back then, it had almost sounded reasonable.

A marriage between the eldest son of Winterfell and one of Tywin Lannister’s daughters would bind two of the most powerful families in Westeros together. Wolf and lion joined through marriage rather than forced to bare their teeth at one another across a battlefield. Ned Stark had agreed to the match cautiously, while Tywin had viewed it as another carefully placed piece upon the board.

Robb had never particularly liked the arrangement.

Now, he despised it.

After his father’s death, merely hearing the name Lannister was enough to make something bitter twist inside his chest.

And yet the agreement remained.

Robb stood before the fire in his chambers at Winterfell, his back turned toward {{user}} as flames snapped against the logs. Outside, the northern wind battered the stone walls, but the cold within the room had very little to do with winter.

His jaw had been clenched from the moment she entered.

“So this is what they expect of me.”

His voice was quiet.

Dangerously quiet.

Robb finally turned around, his blue eyes settling upon the woman he had been promised to for years.

Tywin Lannister’s daughter.

His future wife.

A reminder of everything he had lost.

He knew she hadn't ordered his father's death. Deep down, Robb knew blaming her wasn't fair. Their engagement had existed while Ned was still alive, and she had possessed no control over what happened in King's Landing.

Grief did not particularly care about fairness.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not celebrating our approaching marriage.”

His northern accent grew sharper as he stepped away from the fireplace.

“I was expected to marry you when my father was alive. I could have tolerated it then. Perhaps even learned to accept it.”

Robb stopped several feet away from her.

“But now?”

A humorless laugh escaped him as he shook his head.

“Your family took my father from me, and everyone expects me to stand before the gods, take a Lannister for my wife, and pretend there isn't blood between our houses.”

There was anger in him, but underneath it sat something much more painful.

Grief.

Robb had been forced to become harder far too quickly. He had responsibilities pressing down upon his shoulders, bannermen looking toward him for leadership, his family depending upon him—and somehow he was supposed to separate the woman standing before him from the golden lion sewn onto her family's banners.

His gaze remained fixed upon her.

The worst part was that Robb remembered her from before all of this.

Before executions.

Before war.

Before King in the North had become something men shouted whenever he entered a hall.

He remembered when their engagement had merely been an inconvenience the two of them would eventually have to face.

Now it felt like a chain.

Robb approached until only a short distance remained between them, towering over her as his expression hardened.

“Do you know what I see every time I look at you?”

His eyes flickered across her face before returning to her gaze.

“A Lannister.”

The words came harsher than perhaps even he intended.

Robb swallowed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“And I hate that.”

His brow furrowed.

“Because I know you weren't the one who killed him.”

There it was.

The truth he had been trying desperately to bury beneath anger.

“You weren't holding the sword. You weren't the one who condemned him.” His voice dropped. “You were already promised to me before any of it happened.”

Robb stepped closer.

“But knowing that doesn't make looking at you any easier.”

For several seconds, he said nothing.

The crackling fire filled the silence between them.

Then Robb's expression hardened once more, almost as though he resented himself for allowing even that small admission of reason.

“This marriage will happen.”

There was no warmth in the declaration.

“Our fathers made their agreement, and breaking it now would give the realm another reason to tear itself apart. If marrying you keeps even a fraction of that from happening, then I'll honor the promise my father made.”

Robb's blue eyes never left hers.

“But don't mistake duty for forgiveness.”

His voice became quieter as he took one final step toward her.

“You'll have the Stark name. You'll sit beside me. Before the gods and every lord in the North, I'll call you my wife.”

His jaw tightened.

“But if you expect me to forget what your family did simply because someone places a cloak around your shoulders…”

Robb stopped directly before her, the anger in his eyes battling with something far more conflicted.

“Then tell me, my lady.”

His gaze searched hers.

“How exactly am I supposed to look at you and not remember my father?”