Chapter 22 Robb

"He won't let me cross!" the Greatjon Umber had immediately shouted as he had meet Robb and Ned Stark by the drawbridge leading to the western castle of the Twins. Now an hour later all the commanders had been assembled in a large tent set up in the midst of the growing Stark army camp near the west banks of the Green Fork. The Stark host had barely arrived when Robb and his father learned that Greatjon Umber and his cavalry force of one thousand men had been delayed here for three days because Lord Walder Frey refused to allow them to cross his bridge until Robb and Ned arrived to discuss "matters".

In the tent around a rough table were all of Robb's loyal lords from the north, the Greatjon Umber, Galbart Glover, Ser Helman Tallhart, Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island, and many others, with the exception of Roose Bolton, who was still marching north on the east bank of the Green Fork from the ruby ford of the Trident with his slightly more than one thousand men. Also missing was Rickard Karstark, who the Greatjon had learned had crossed the bridge almost ten days ago with little trouble and had gone north. Where Lord Karstark and his almost seven hundred men were now no one knew for certain. Robb wondered if they had managed to cross the Neck before the ironmen closed on Moat Cailin or not.

Also present in the tent were Ser Stevron Frey and his eldest son Ryman, representing the Frey's in the Stark host. Stevron was the eldest son of old Walder Frey. He was in his sixties, and had been waiting a long time for his father to die. He had the grey eyes, weak chin and weasel look common to the Freys, along with grey hair and a grey beard. He was a fair warrior but he had never won renown at anything and had been in his father's shadow since his birth. As heir to the Twins he was fighting a constant battle against his own children and his many siblings and their children who wished to gain favor and more power from Lord Walder before he died. Robb knew Stevron's son Ryman was the worst of the bunch. He was a stout man still in his early forties, but looked older, and who liked his wine and his whores. With a grandfather past ninety and a father past sixty, he could expect it all to come to him some day, if he didn't drink and whore himself to death first that is.

"Three days lost," Robb's father said in angry. "He knows the ironmen are at Moat Cailin. Ser Stevron, you must talk to him."

Stevron slowly nodded. "I have, for the past hour. My father knows what is at stake Lord Stark. But he is unlikely to change his mind. You and your son must see him at once to settle matters over promises made by your lady wife."

"At least he should permit Lord Umber and his cavalry to pass," Robb said in frustration. "They are but a small part of our force. We need them to go swiftly north to forestall the ironmen from consolidating their hold on the Neck."

"I agree," Stevron said and then shook his head. "But my father will not yet yield to reason. You must talk to him."

"Aye," said Ned Stark in an angry tone. "It is past time we talked. Come, Robb. The rest of you stay here. You as well Ser Stevron and Ryman."

Ryman protested. "My grandfather will expect us at any meeting."

"You sit yourself right down there, Ryman," the Greatjon told him. "We have plenty of wine so you'll be happy. And if Ned and Robb are 'delayed' in any way, we'll make sure you have the hospitality of the North."

"Lord Stark," Stevron said in rising angry, directing his words to Robb. "My men have fought valiantly for you. Is this how you treat allies? With veiled threats?"

"Your father has refused my bannermen passage across his bridge," Robb answered in a stern tone. "Is this how he treats his allies?"

"He…he is old, and bitter," said Stevron, calming down a bit. "He feels slighted by the lack of respect he feels the other great houses have towards ours. He only wants your respect and your friendship. And what was promised."

"Then he shall have it all," Ned Stark said. "Come, Robb. Time is wasting."

They left the tent and came out into the morning sun. Grey Wind was waiting for Robb there. He called Grey Wind to him and his direwolf followed him and his father. They had been here less than two hours and already things were bad, Robb thought. All around him his men were making camp, for they would have to be here at least a day or two to settle wedding plans. But they needed to send some kind of force north now. Roose Bolton was already on the east bank, so...

"Where is Roose Bolton?" his father suddenly asked, as if reading his mind.

"The Greatjon sent some men across to the east bank in a small boat a day ago to find them. They have not returned yet."

"We must get word to them to keep moving north, with all possible speed."

"He is mostly on foot," Robb told him. "We took the bulk of the horse to Riverrun."

"Then we must have this bridge. Today."

As they walked toward the west bank castle of the Twins Robb's mother suddenly came striding through the camp with Arya and Sansa trailing behind her. "What is happening?" his mother asked right away.

"Walder Frey is being his usual prickly self," her husband told her. "He refused the Greatjon and his men passage. They have been here for three days, waiting."

"Have we sent no men north?" she asked in fear.

"None," said Robb. "Karstark and his men passed over ten days ago but no one knows where they are now. But they are no friends of ours now." He knew why she was worried. The last message that came to them from Maester Luwin said that Roose Bolton's bastard was causing trouble and that ironmen were on the Stony Shore. Both places were far from Winterfell, but with few men left in Winterfell, she worried about Bran and Rickon.

"Arya," his father was saying. "Come with us. If Walder Frey wants you to marry his son he should see what he is getting."

"Ned!" Catelyn Stark said in shock. "Look at her!"

"What?" Arya asked in puzzlement. "What's wrong?"

Robb almost laughed. Arya's hair had grown some since King's Landing but it was still very short for a girl. She was dressed in her boy's clothes and had dirt on her hands and as always Needle was at her side. She was not very presentable for a betrothal ceremony.

"You're a mess!" said Sansa to her sister, to underline the point. Arya hit her in the arm and Sansa winced and hit her back and for a second Robb thought Arya would pull her sword out.

"Stop that this instant!" Catelyn Stark said and the two sisters stopped and then glowered at each other. "Arya, quickly, go change and…"

"No," said Ned Stark firmly. "She is fine. More than fine."

Catelyn Stark shook her head. "My husband…this is not good. Robb is also a mess, he hasn't shaved in weeks, and he needs a haircut, and the two of them need a bath and…"

"There is no time for such things," said Robb's father to his mother.

"Gods," Catelyn said and then breathed deeply. "Very well. Arya, at least give me that sword."

"No!" Arya said in defiance, her hand on Needle in case her mother tried to take it from her.

"Leave her be," Ned said to his wife quietly. "We are going in there alone and I don't know what will happen. She knows how to use it, so let her keep it." Catelyn just stared at him and then nodded once. "Come, my children," Robb's father said. "Let us go meet your future family."

"Stay, Grey Wind," Robb commanded and his direwolf tried to follow him but Sansa called him back and Grey Wind paused, turned and went to her side and she began rubbing his fur.

Robb, his father, and little sister walked straight to the drawbridge that crossed the moat that separated the west bank castle from the river bank. As they reached the castle portcullis two guards stopped them.

"Eddard Stark, Lord Robb Stark, and Lady Arya Stark to see Lord Walder Frey," his father announced to the guards and the portcullis was raised and they were asked to wait in a small empty room just inside the castle's outer walls.

"What's going to happen?" Arya asked as they waited.

"You are going to meet Lord Walder Frey," Robb told her.

"He's an old man who has had more wives and now has more children than anyone in the kingdoms," added his father. "He takes all things said to him to heart. And he nurses grudges longer than most people live. So hold your tongue and only speak when spoken to."

"Will I meet the boy today?" Arya asked, chewing her bottom lip.

"No," her father said. "He is a page to Roose Bolton. He is still not here."

"Oh," said Arya and Robb could see she was pleased. "What's his name?"

"Elmar…I think," Robb said.

"Elmar," Arya repeated. "How old is he?"

"Your age," Ned told her. "He is Lord Frey's youngest son."

Arya's face screwed up. "My age? He's just a little boy!"

"Aye," Robb said. "And you're just a little girl."

"Am not!" she shot back at him.

"Stop that," her father said, but he chuckled at the same time. Well, maybe she was not so little, Robb thought. She had killed men, more than once, and Robb knew she had eyes for the smith Gendry. She wasn't even a woman yet and she was swooning over some boy. More man than boy, now that he thought on it. That was going to be trouble. He had talked to Gendry to warn him about what would happen here, that Arya was promised to another. Robb felt the smith had gotten the message, and perhaps he worried for nothing.

"What about Robb's wife?" Arya asked. "Will she be here?"

"Seven hells," Robb said quietly. "Do I have to pick one today?"

"It would make things easier," his father answered. "But do not feel rushed. Pick one you like, and be sure before you decide. But we must send some force across the bridge, and sooner than later."

Then a young man with the Frey look came to them. "Lord Stark, my grandfather will see you now."

They followed him up some stairs and then into what passed for a great hall at the Twins. Like at Riverrun there was a raised dais at one end and many benches along the walls There were also many people here, almost all of them Freys, Robb guessed. Men and women, and children and on and on, dozens of them, in a room about half the size of Riverrun's great hall. There were also many young girls and women here, all seemingly dressed in their finest, and Robb had no doubt one of these was to be his bride to be. The word must have gone out when he arrived this morning and now they were waiting on him to pick one to be the future Lady Stark of Winterfell.

On the raised dais at one end was Lord Walder Frey. He was old and balding and had a weak chin and splotchy skin, which hung in loose folds. He sat awkwardly on the high chair whose back was carved with the two towers that were his family's sigil. Near him were four men, three strong looking, all three of them armed. Robb did not know them, but they all looked like Freys and from their age he guessed they were some of his older sons. The fourth man was sitting down next to Lord Walder, and was unarmed, and Robb could see he had a lame leg, which was twisted. This must be Lothar Frey, another one of Lord Walder's sons, and Steward of the Twins. His father had tried to teach him who was who in the Frey family but all the names became a blur to him, made worse by having so many named Walder. Old Walder Frey had had eight wives and twenty-one true sons and seven daughters by them and many more bastards besides. The only reason Robb remembered who Lothar was because of his bad leg.

"Lord Walder," his father said as he bowed and Robb and Arya did as well as they stood behind him. "It is good to meet again after so long."

"Yes, Lord Stark, too long," said Walder Frey as his head bobbed up and down while speaking. "But it is not Lord Stark anymore, is it? Heh. You have confessed to being a traitor and have been stripped of all your titles and lands. I should be talking to your son, not you."

This was not a good way to start. Robb could see that his father's body stiffen. "As you wish," Ned Stark said to Walder Frey. "It matters not to me."

He stepped to one side and Robb knew he had to step forward. "I am honored to meet you, Lord Walder," he said with a slight bow. "We have traveled far. Would it be too much trouble to ask for some food and drink?" His mother had drilled that into his head as they came north. He had to ask, to have guest right.

"Heh. Yes, yes. Bring in the bread and wine," Lord Walder commanded and soon a tray was brought in and they were each give some bread with salt and a cup of wine. Arya ate the bread quickly and only sipped some wine, making a face as she did so. After Robb and his father ate and drank the tray was taken away.

"Yes, yes, that is done. Now we talk. Honors you talk about," said Lord Walder. "An honor to meet me, you say. An honor you refused several months ago when you headed south. You sent your mother to do your talking. Not hiding behind her skirts any longer, are you?" He then made the heh sound again, as if he had made a smart joke.

Robb did not care for the words of insult, but kept calm. "My lady mother made a pact with you for use of your bridge. I and my sister are here to honor this pact."

"Sister? I see no sister, only a little boy with a little sword," Walder Frey said, peering at Arya in confusion.

She now stepped forward. "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, my lord," she said in a loud and strong voice for one so young. Then Lord Walder let out a small laugh and then a murmur of laughter rang through the hall. Arya was getting angry, Robb saw, and he just shook his head at her and she gritted her teeth and tried to remain calm.

"Yes, a girl you are," said Walder Frey. "Your mother lets you dress like that and carry a sword? Heh. We'll put an end to that when you marry my son."

"I look forward to meeting him, my lord," said Arya, and Robb knew it was well said and thankfully she had not tried to argue about the clothes or sword comment.

"Good, good," said Lord Walder and then he looked at Robb. "Lord of Winterfell, you have promised to marry one of my daughters or granddaughters. Here they are, all of them. Make your choice." He waved his old right hand at the room as he said this.

Suddenly, a bevy of young Frey women were coming down from the benches and nearby stairs and walls and were standing in front of their lord and facing Robb. They all curtseyed as if on cue. "My ladies," he said with a slight bow of his head and then he was truly overwhelmed. Seven hells, he thought! Now that the choice was here it was too much for him to decide. They were all alike and yet all different. Some had brown hair, some blond, others near coal black, and there were even a few with red or auburn hair. Some were fat, others rail thin, some mere girls, others women fully blossomed. There was even a set of twins. Many had the grey eyes and weak chin and weasel look of their lord, but some had been blessed without such looks, and these were the ones who his eyes lingered on longest. They were all dressed well, and most were shy and many blushed as he looked at them. A few were bold and looked right back at him.

"I…I am overwhelmed, my lord," Robb said at last. "Such a host of beauties I have never laid eyes on in my life. It would be too hasty of me to decide right now."

"Heh. One is the same as another," Lord Walder said with a wave of his weak hand. "Off you go!" he commanded and all the women went back to where they had been a few minutes earlier. "They will all bear heirs for you, heirs of Winterfell. We have arranged for the wedding. It can be done in a day or two. Then we shall all be fast friends. Both weddings, when Elmar arrives."

Robb heard the intake of air behind him as Arya sucked in her breath. He knew she was about to explode in fury and then thankfully his father stepped forward again.

"That I cannot allow," Ned Stark said strongly. "The agreement my wife made is for a marriage for when they are both of a proper age. Arya is not yet a woman. She is but ten years of age. There will be no marriage until she has blossomed. I may be branded a traitor, and have no titles, but as her father I exercise my right of marriage consent under all the laws of the Seven Kingdoms."

Old Walder Frey made a deep growling sound in his throat, as if he was clearing his throat, but maybe he was just thinking. "Very well," he finally said and Robb could sense the tension leaving Arya. "But Lord Robb Stark shall wed, and wed soon."

"I will," said Robb swiftly. "I think perhaps I could spend a short time with each young lady, to get to know them better. Today, at my camp."

"As you wish," said Walder Frey. "Preparations shall begin for the wedding."

"There is one other matter, my lord," Robb said quickly, before they were dismissed. "You know we have had some trouble in the north."

"Ironmen at Moat Cailin," said Lothar Frey. "They have sent ravens asking for help."

"Have you sent any?" Ned Stark asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.

One of the other sons now spoke. "We have no quarrel with the Iron Islands."

"Not yet," said Ned grimly. "They were near Seagard as well. We were attacked on the road here, and Arya was almost killed. We lost many good people. And now they are attacking Moat Cailin. You will soon be between them. We needs send a fast force north to forestall them."

"How large a force?" Walder Frey asked, his old eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Some cavalry, no more," said Robb. "About two thousand men. The bulk of my army will wait until the wedding is over. We are also waiting on Princess Myrcella, who will be fostered at Winterfell with your two grandsons."

This news surprised Walder Frey and the others, Robb could see. "The Princess, coming here?" Lord Walder asked, his bald head bobbing up and down as he spoke.

"Aye," Robb replied. "She is supposed to come soon. Now she is at Harrenhal."

"Clear the hall!" Lord Walder suddenly commanded and soon most of the people except the four sons up front with their lord father had left. Robb wondered what was going to happen now. He glanced at his father and at Arya and both seemed very tense.

"Tell them," Walder Frey commanded of his son Lothar as soon as the hall was emptied.

"We have had news of tidings in the south," said Lothar. "Renly Baratheon is dead."

"Dead?" Robb said in surprise and he looked at his father who just shook his head in sadness.

"How did it happen?" his father asked.

"We know not for certain," said another son. "The story we have is that one of his bodyguards was an assassin in the pay of Stannis Baratheon."

"He had his own brother killed?" Robb asked in disbelief. He could not imagine such a thing.

"Yes," said Lord Walder. "Believe it, young Lord Stark. That is how he is. Stern Stannis would shed his own blood to get his boney arse on that chair of melted swords."

"Stannis had the better claim," said Ned. "But this is an ill way to have victory."

"What of Renly's army?" Robb asked suddenly.

"Most have gone over to his brother," said Lothar. "Except for the Tyrells and the Tarlys."

"So now Lord Tywin faces one army," said Robb's father. "If Lord Tywin was smart he would try to make a deal with the Tyrells."

"Cunning, he is," said Walder Frey in a bitter tone. "Proud as the lion on his banner, too. Snubbed my family for years, even though my son is married to his sister. Wanted my help, he did, came crawling to me finally, now that he was beaten by you Starks. He wanted…"

"Father!" said Lothar suddenly.

Walder Frey glared at his son Lothar. "I have decided! Tell them or I will!"

"Father, this is not wise," Lothar said in worry.

"Tell them!" Walder Frey shouted and his voice was strong for one so old. "Tell them what treachery Tywin Lannister is plotting! Tell them why the Princess will never go to Winterfell!"

Robb suddenly knew what they were arguing about and was too shocked to speak. His hand went to his sword pommel and then he swiftly removed it, so as not to give offense.

"Seven hells," Arya said in a bare whisper. "What's happening?"

Her father knew. "Lannister's are all liars," Ned Stark spat as he shook his head in disgust. "I knew our peace was too good to be true. What has he promised you for our heads?"

"Nothing was promised outright," said Lothar after some hesitation. "He hinted at possible lordship of the Riverlands. Or to make father or one of us Warden of the North." Robb could see that all four sons were quite embarrassed, whether at the treachery they knew of and perhaps plotted for or at their father for being so bold as to tell them of it. Robb was now sure they had argued to keep silent about it.

Ned snorted. "Lannister promises always come with hidden dangers. You could never hold the Riverlands or the North. The Tullys would fight you to the bitter end and the northern people would not stand for it as well. Your rule would be full of rebellion. The Lannisters will offer protection and help, but they would encroach on your lands and privileges and soon you would be nothing but their underlings. And don't forget that the North is big and cold and winter is coming."

"Yes, yes," said Walder Frey. "All true. And why kill you for it when your son will give us a place in the North through the wedding bed. I will have our houses joined before I die, Eddard Stark. The slights and snubs of the past are over. The Frey name will be honored and I don't need Tywin Lannister's false friendship to see it done."

"I will see that it is," said Robb loudly, knowing he had to choose his words carefully here. "Frey blood and Stark blood will some day rule the North."

"Good, good," said Walder Frey. "As it should be."

"Does that mean Princess Myrcella is not coming to Winterfell?" Arya suddenly asked.

"Aye," her father said, and Robb could see the anger in his eyes. "And we have no time to force the Lannisters to agree to the peace terms."

Now Robb wondered if Tywin Lannister had somehow convinced the ironmen to attack when they did. It all seemed too neat to be mere happenstance. But he had no time to think on that. It was time to ask for what they came for.

"Lord Walder," Robb said next. "We have need of your bridge and need of haste."

Walder Frey's head bobbed up and down. "Very well. Your two thousand cavalry can pass."

"Thank you, my lord," Robb said with a bow. "I must see to my men."

"See that the bridges are down and the gates are opened," Walder Frey said to his sons and two of them went off. Soon they had made arrangements for the girls to come see Robb in the afternoon. They made their goodbyes and were soon back outside walking towards to their camp.

"Seven hells!" Arya said as they walked across the drawbridge towards their camp.

"Watch your tongue, young lady," her father said.

"They want to kill us! And he wants me to marry his son now!" she said in anger and amazement.

"Father put an end to that," Robb told her. "If only I was still a boy."

"You are a man and you will do your duty," his father said to him. "Some of them weren't too bad looking."

"Not many," Arya said with a little laugh and Robb just groaned in despair.

Robb's mother and Sansa were waiting for them and they quickly moved to the large tent where the other commanders were waiting, including Stevron and his son. Ned and Robb told them of the news of Renly's death and the fact that Tywin Lannister was plotting to kill them. There was outrage and harsh words and some said they should march south and much was discussed and all had their say until finally Robb spoke.

"We have no time to deal with Lannister treachery," he began. "We can only pray that Stannis Baratheon can defeat the Lannisters in the field. Lord Walder has ordered the bridge open. We must send a force north. Lord Umber will lead two thousand cavalry."

"Aye," said the Greatjon. "And it's about time."

"When Lord Bolton and his men arrive on the opposite bank they will rest for one day and then move north as well," Robb continued. "After my wedding we will then bring the rest of the army across and move north swiftly. So see to your men, make all preparations and see they are well rested and fed."

"Lord Stark," Stevron said to Robb as they moved to leave. "If Tywin Lannister made such an outrageous offer to my father you must know we had nothing to do with it."

"I do," Robb told him, although he really was not sure if the Freys had approached the Lannisters or visa versa. "There is no blame here, Ser Stevron."

"Thank you, my lord. But I worry though," Stevron continued. "If my father refused Lord Tywin, what will happen if the Lannisters win? Tywin Lannister is not a forgiving man."

"Aye," Robb said and all eyes were on him now. "Ser Stevron, soon we will be brothers. I pledge the North to your defense if the Lannisters attack you. What say you men and lady of the north?"

"Aye!" they all said and Stevron was visible relieved. "I thank you, my friends."

All of the commanders soon left and Robb and his family were left alone in the tent. They sat at the table and soon a servant came with platters of bread and meat and dried fruit and wine and water. The Starks ate and talked on things to come.

"We should have known better than to trust Tywin Lannister," Robb's mother said in anger after the servant left. "What will we do?"

"We will go home, as Robb said," Ned Stark told his family. They all agreed at once. "Bran and Rickon are waiting. Our people are waiting. We destroy the ironmen, we put things to right at Hornwood and the Dreadfort. Then we prepare for winter."

"What about Princess Myrcella?" Sansa asked, a sound of hope in her voice.

"If Tywin Lannister was planning some plot against us, most likely she will not come," Robb replied.

"No?" Sansa said and Robb could see she was upset by this. Perhaps they had become friends. Robb knew not.

"That is certain now," said his father, his anger smoldering. "Tywin Lannister never intended for her to come to Winterfell. He intended to have the Freys kill us all."

Catelyn gave a short bitter laugh. "Who would think Walder Frey would have any honor and tell us about a plot to kill us?" Then her eyes narrowed. "Maybe they still will."

"Then we should kill them first!" Arya declared.

"Stop that talk at once!" her mother said.

"Aye," said Ned Stark. "Give them no reason to distrust us."

"But how can we trust them?" asked Sansa, and Robb could hear the fear in her voice.

"We are surrounded by our men," Robb told her. "We still outnumber the Frey's more than three to one. Besides, I am going to marry one of them. Old Walder himself said why kill us when he can get what he wants through the marriage bed."

"Walder Frey is a treacherous, bitter old man," his mother retorted. "He may have told you of this plot to lull you into false security."

"Aye," said Robb's father. "None of you go anywhere without an escort." He looked to Arya. "No wandering off to the forge without someone at your side."

"Yes," she said at once.

"What did your future husband look like?" Sansa asked Arya with a giggle.

"He wasn't there," Arya told her.

"He's a page for Roose Bolton," Robb explained. "They still haven't arrived on the east bank."

"Poor lad," said Catelyn. "What a man to serve. He scares me."

"His son Ramsey Snow is worse," Ned said. "I should have dealt with him years ago. We must now deal with him when we arrive home. That will not go well with Roose."

"First the ironmen," Robb stated.

"No, first your wedding," said Arya and they all had a small laugh.

"Did you find one you like?" Robb's mother asked him, a look of worry on her face.

"I don't know," he said. "There are so many to pick from. I will meet them all one by one in the afternoon."

"Then it is a bath for you and a hair cut and a shave," his mother said at once. "The same for the rest of you. This whole army stinks and can be smelled in Winterfell I am sure. We have plenty of water now. I will see to the preparations." With that she left the tent.

"You rest for a bit," his father said to Robb as he stood. "I will see to our men before they leave."

"I should come as well," said Robb, standing with him.

"No. Rest. You have many young ladies to see this afternoon and a big decision to make. Perhaps your sisters can advise you on what to look for. I will send for you when they are ready to leave." With that his father left as well, and Robb was alone with his two sisters.

"Gods!" said Arya at once, pounding her fist on the table. "I should have killed Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal!"

"Don't be silly," Sansa admonished her. "They would have killed you and then we'd all be dead."

"He wants us dead!" Arya shot back.

"Aye," said Robb in a furor. "I knew what he was like from the stories. Father and Mother worried on this when we were at Riverrun. That's why he asked for Myrcella."

"Now she won't be coming," said Sansa with a sad sigh.

"Are you friends?" Robb asked, curious about this.

"What? Oh, yes," Sansa replied. "I told you we had some adventures on the way to Harrenhal."

"At least the Hound won't be in Winterfell," Arya said. "I hate him so much!"

Sansa glared at her. "He saved my life. Why can't you let it be?"

"He killed my friend," Arya snapped back. "A good deed doesn't make that go away."

She really wanted to kill him, Robb thought. What had happened to the little girl who used to be his sister? "Arya, the Hound is a monster. He'd kill you."

She nodded. "I know. Gendry said the same when I told him I wanted to kill the Hound."

"At least he has some sense," Sansa said and then she looked at her sister in a sly way. "What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing!" Arya said swiftly, her face turning a bit red. "He's just my friend."

"Mother doesn't think so," Robb told her.

"She hates him," Arya said in an angry tone. "Just because King Robert never said he was his father."

"I don't think she hates him too much now," Robb told her. "He saved your life. She treated his wounds. Why would she do that if she hated him?"

Arya's face grew a bit happier. "Maybe you're right."

"What did she say to him that night she talked to him?" Sansa asked, all eager for some gossip.

"She just wanted to know more about the trip to Harrenhal is all. At least that's what he told me."

"Oh," said Sansa. "I thought she was going to tell him to leave you alone."

"She'd better not!" Arya shot back.

Sansa's eyes lit up. "So there is something going on!"

"Maybe," Arya said shyly, looking at her two siblings, waiting for what they would say.

Robb knew he had to say it but felt bad. "It will mean trouble."

"Lots of trouble," Sansa added quickly.

"I don't care!" Arya replied fiercely. "All their stupid rules and promises. Why can't I like who I want to like?"

"He's too old for you," Sansa declared at once, as if that settled the whole matter.

"You mean he's not good enough!" Arya snapped.

"Age is no matter," said Robb. "In a few years it would make no difference. But…you are promised to the Frey boy."

"Father said he would never let me marry the Frey boy," Arya told them in a whisper.

"What?" Sansa said in surprise, leaning in on the table to hear more of this.

"He said winter is coming and it would be three of four years before there would be any wedding," Arya told them quietly. "And he would delay it as long as possible. I hope the Frey boy gets kicked by a horse or falls in the river."

Robb laughed and so did Sansa and Arya couldn't help but laugh as well. But then Robb realized something. "Walder Frey has other sons, and many grandsons as well. He will see you married to one of them."

Arya growled in frustration. "Gods! Maybe I'll just run away!"

"With Gendry, you mean?" Sansa asked in a teasing tone.

"Why not?" Arya said and Robb and Sansa looked at each other and then at Arya in shock.

"Don't even think about it," Robb said to her in a harsh tone. "Father would hunt you down and drag you back to Winterfell and put your man in irons for the rest of his life."

"Then I'll run away by myself!" Arya declared. "I…I'll go to the Free Cities and become a sellsword. When I am older I'll come back and marry who I want."

Now Robb and Sansa laughed and Arya scowled at first and then laughed as well. "It sounds like a fairy tale," Sansa said and then her face grew sad. "A forbidden love story."

"Love?" Robb said in surprise and he looked at Arya. "You are too young to understand love."

"Oh?" she shot back. "And do you, big brother? Do you understand love?"

"No," he said ruefully. "And now they are making me pick a girl I don't know for my wife. In a day or two I will have to wed her and bed her and…" Gods, what was he saying, in front of his sisters! "Forgive me, I should not speak of this."

"Don't be stupid," Arya said. "We all know what happens in the wedding bed."

"Arya!" Sansa said in shock.

"What?" Arya retorted "I'm not a stupid little girl anymore."

"True enough," said Robb with a hint of regret. "Well, little sister, your smith is not high on Mother's list of potential husbands for you, that is certain, despite his royal parentage. But you know Father likes him and I find him to be pleasant enough."

Arya's face lit up as he said this and then she looked at Sansa. "Well?"

"He's…well, he's handsome," Sansa admitted. "And he's tall and strong and brave. But…but…"

"He's low born," Arya said with a downcast face and Sansa only nodded.

"I'm sorry, Arya," she said and she reached out and took her sister's hand and squeezed and Arya would not look at them and only mumbled again, "It's not fair."

"Aye," said Robb, feeling bad for her. Did she really care for him that much? How could it have happened so fast? She only knew him for a month. Could the same happen to me? Could I grow to care for a woman I barely know on my wedding day?

Then he looked at Sansa. She was so pretty and would make a good wife for any man. Was he responsible to find her a match now or was that still Father's duty? She had been spurned by the King, thankfully, but she had had a hard time in King's Landing and he had not said a word to her about this yet.

"I am sorry for what happened to you in King's Landing."

"Not your fault," Sansa said sadly. "I am just glad I don't have to marry Joffrey. He is truly a monster."

"At least we agree on that much," said Arya. Robb had heard the story about how Joffrey had ordered Sansa beaten. His blood had boiled in rage when he heard it from his father and he swore that some day he would kill Ser Meryn and Joffrey both.

Arya was talking to him. "Father said you have to meet these girls. What will you ask them?"

That threw him. "I…I don't know. Ah…I guess I should know their age, for one."

"Yes," said Sansa. "And find out whose daughter they are as well. Not all of the Freys are the same, Mother said."

"You wouldn't want that old drunk Ryman's daughter," said Arya with a look of disgust.

"Aye," Robb answered. "I don't even know if he has a daughter. There are too many of them!"

"Then let's make it easier," said Sansa. "What color hair do you like on a girl?"

Robb felt his face blush and his sisters giggled at him. "Come on. Tell us true, brother," Arya teased.

"Brown maybe. Or a bit blond, but not too much."

"Eyes?" Sansa asked next.

"Most of them are grey eyed, so there is not much choice there," Robb told them. "But if I have to choose, blue. Brown is fine as well."

"Good," Sansa said. "Now, tall or short, big or small…"

"Fat or thin, you mean," Arya said as she nibbled on some cheese.

"Not too fat," Robb replied. "But she should be womanly." Then he turned red again. "I…I mean, she should look like a woman."

"He means she should have teats," said Arya as if she was discussing the weather and after a shocked gasp from Sansa all three started laughing again.

"I am glad to see someone has something to laugh about," said their father as he stuck his head in the tent. "Time to see our men off north."

They came out of the tent, and there was a long line of horsemen over by the drawbridge. They were already prepared to move across. Ned and Robb hurried over to where the Greatjon was standing by his large warhorse. Ned handed him a rolled up parchment sealed in wax.

"If you see Howland Reed this letter is for him," he told the Greatjon.

"Aye," the big man replied. "Him and his bog men will make good allies if the Moat has fallen."

"Maester Luwin's last message said that his children already believe their father has moved against the Moat," Robb told him.

"It will be seven or eight days before I am there," the Greatjon said. "We will have the door open when you come home with your bride, Lord Stark."

"Have a care, Lord Umber," Robb told him. "If you cannot take it, then wait for us. Don't lose your men in useless assaults."

"Aye," Lord Umber replied. "We will take care to husband our force. Shame there is no way to surprise them there."

His father looked thoughtful, as if thinking deeply on something. "I've know Howland Reed many years. He always said that his crannogmen know many hidden roads through the bogs. Maybe with his help we can find a way past and take them from two sides at once."

"A good plan, if possible," said the Greatjon. "I wish I could be here for the wedding and the bedding. But I have ironmen to kill. By your leave, my lords."

"May the gods be with you," Ned Stark told him.

The Greatjon climbed on his horse and bellowed to his men. "Time to kill ironmen!" he shouted and they all roared in approval and moved across the great bridge and the wide river. It took a long time for them to pass and then behind them came many supply wagons and soon they were all over and then gone up the north side of the Green Fork.

As they watched them leave, Catelyn Stark found them. "Baths, all of you, now." And without waiting for a reply she strode off and they all followed her, knowing better than to argue.

Two tents had been set up for the baths, one for men and one for women. Great kettles and pots had been set up on wooden fires outside and water was heating up. Robb welcomed the bath and soak himself through and afterward a barber trimmed his beard and hair. In his tent he found some decent clothing laid out, the same he had worn for the ceremony at Riverrun when Tyrion Lannister had read out the terms of the peace treaty. All gone to hell, now, he thought. Mother was right. They never should have trusted Tywin Lannister. Some of his commanders had argued for marching south again and taking Harrenhal and then striking the Lannisters from behind as Stannis hit them from the south. Robb thought on it but his father had said their supplies were low, the fall rains were coming and they had enemies enough in the North. His words of wisdom and caution had carried the day and all agreed that they must go home. Once Moat Cailin was retaken they would fortify it more strongly and leave a large force of archers and knights to block the passage.

Afternoon came and Robb sat in his tent at a table in his fine clothing and with many candles lit. A flagon of wine and one of water was on the table with two cups. His squire, a Frey boy name Olyvar, stood by to serve and to announce each of his female relations as they came to the tent.

As they waited Robb spoke to him. "Which is the prettiest?" he asked.

"Roslin," Olyvar said right away and Robb laughed.

"That's your sister, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord, but I speak true."

"Perhaps," said Robb. The boy did not have the weak chin of the Frey's and had brown hair and brown eyes. Their mother was a Rosby, the sixth wife of Walder Frey, Robb seemed to remember. She was now dead as were all his wives except the last one, a girl no older than Robb.

"Tell me about your sister," Robb commanded, unable to remember her from the morning's hasty scene in the castle.

"She is fair to look on, my lord," he said at once. "She has long brown hair and brown eyes. She likes music. She is ten and six years of age."

Robb was almost the same. "Very well. I will see her last. If you say she is the fairest, I had better see the rest first, so as to better judge your claim."

"As you say, my lord," the boy replied.

Robb suddenly heard a lot of noise outside his tent and there were high pitched giggles and female voices. Robb took a deep breath. "I am ready." Olyvar led in the first girl and the selection process began.

It took almost two hours and by the end Robb's head was spinning, either from too much wine, too much perfume, or just too much of the Freys. They were a mixed lot, fair and not so fair, fat and thin, and tall and short, older than him and younger than him. Many were shy and hardly spoke any words. All were very nervous, but a few were bold enough. He asked them their names and ages and what they liked and did not like and could they ride a horse and could they read, and if they liked to cook and do needle work and some other things his mother had suggested and a few things his father had advised. Robb almost laughed when the one called Fat Walda was brought in. She had teats a plenty and was very robust but she was far too shy and mumbled her words. Two twins called Serra and Sarra insisted on coming in together and Robb said he could only marry one of them and their faces fell. Finally, at the end Olyvar led his sister Roslin into the tent.

She was fair to look on, perhaps one of the fairest, Robb knew right away. She was very thin and had long brown hair and brown eyes and did not have the weasel look or weak chin of many of the others. There was a slight gap in her teeth, he saw when she smiled, but somehow that made her look sweeter.

"Please sit," Robb said as her brother poured her some wine in a clean cup.

"Thank you, my lord," Roslin said as she sat. Her voice was soft but not too quiet. She looked down and would not meet his eyes for a moment. She was very nervous he could see. Robb took a drink of wine and she did the same and then seemed to relax a bit as she drank.

"My name is Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell," he told her.

She looked up. "I know, my lord. My name is Roslin Frey. I am the fifth daughter of seven of Lord Walder Frey of the Twins. My mother was Lady Bethany Rosby."

"Your brother Olyvar tells me she has passed. I am sorry I never met her."

"That is most kind of you to say, my lord."

"How old are you Roslin?"

"Six and ten, a moon's turn past, my lord."

"Have you been here all you life?"

"No, my lord. Once we traveled to Rosby. But that was when mother was still with us."

"Rosby is a long way from here. Did you ride a horse?"

"I was but a small girl at the time, my lord. But now I can ride well."

"Good," Robb said as he sipped more wine and she did the same. "The North is big. We ride everywhere."

"Yes, my lord."

"Your brother tells me you are fond of music."

"Yes, my lord. I can sing, but a little, and have taken lessons on the wood harp. I prefer to listen to others more skilled."

"Perhaps you are too modest," Robb said and she blushed a little and that made him smile. "My sister Sansa loves music."

"Does she play and sing well?"

"Er…I am not sure actually," Robb said and he wasn't. He had spent his days on horseback and at sword play and hunting and listening to his father explain how to be a lord. Until recent events he had hardly ever spent time with his sisters. Maybe that should end. Now it was time to get to the point.

"Roslin, you know why you are here?"

"Yes, my lord. You are searching for a wife."

"Aye," he told her. "Your lord father and I have an agreement and promises were made and I am here to fulfill them. I understand that this may seem like an unusual way for you to meet a husband. So I would ask you something and I would like truthful answers."

"Of course, my lord," she said, looking at him with big eyes now, no doubt wondering what this man of the North wanted from her besides her maidenhead.

"Does your heart belong to another?" he asked. He had asked all the girls and all had said no but in at least two of them he saw it as a lie.

"No, my lord," she replied right away.

"Good," Robb said and he was sure it was no lie. "Now, if we are wed you will come to Winterfell. My Mother is still the Lady of Winterfell, and some day you would be as well. You would be under her charge and she would teach you all there is of our ways and how to run our household. It may involve hard work from time to time. I would expect you to do your duties faithfully. I would not ask you for your hand if you feel you cannot do so."

She did not hesitated. "I understand, my lord. I have some experience already. My lord father has no idle hands in his castle. We all do our duty, helping raise the younger children, taking turns to help with the cooking and washing and cleaning. It is not a lady's work but my father insisted we all do so. I do not fear hard work."

"That is good," Robb said. He had heard the same answer from the others but some he could see had resented having to do servant's work and maybe they thought being lady of Winterfell they would never have to do so again. "There is just one more thing."

"Yes, my lord?"

"I will not ask for your hand if you do not want me to. Tell if you wish to be my lady wife or not."

Now she looked at him steadily. "My lord, may I speak freely?"

"Aye." What was this? All the others had said 'yes' immediately.

"All of the girls have spoken of nothing else for the past week since we heard you were coming," Roslin said. "All have heard of your bravery and how you captured Jaime Lannister and defeated his army at Riverrun. All have stars in their eyes, hoping to be a lady of Winterfell."

For some reason she paused and Robb thought she was done and he thought she was rejecting him and strangely he found a sense of disappointment start to overwhelm him. "But not you?" he said in a downcast tone.

He couldn't have been more wrong. "No, my lord, oh, no. I have wished the same. But I care not for your victories or prowess in battle. I just want to know if you are a good man."

"I think I am a good man," Robb said at once.

"That is good to know, my lord," she said, now looking at him boldly. "Because there are few good men in these parts. I would be happy to accept your marriage proposal if offered."

Now he thought he understood. Living here, with her old father and his sons and her brothers and cousins and all the rest, she has found no truly good men. Maybe no good women either. Maybe she meant they were always squabbling over the inheritance. Or maybe it was something else, he did not know. But she was unhappy here, he could see.

"Very well," Robb said with a smile that made her blush again. "It has been a pleasure to met you, Roslin. Olyvar, see your sister out."

Robb stood and Roslin did as well, took one last look at him, then she smiled and turned and left with her brother.

Robb collapsed in his chair, exhausted, and not a minute later his mother, father and two sisters were barging into his tent.

"Well?" his father asked, the air heavy with expectation.

"Aye," Robb said. He had decided, and now that it came to it he wondered why he had been so worried. "Her, the last one. Roslin."

Arya and Sansa both let out little shrieks of joy and his father said, "Very well." But his mother looked worried.

"Her mother was a Rosby," she said. " They are not known for being robust. The girl is very thin."

"I don't understand," Robb said to her.

"For child bearing," his mother explained. "A woman should be…robust."

"She means fat," Arya explained.

"No, I mean wider hips," Catelyn Stark said and she looked at her two daughters. "When your time comes to push a baby into the world you will understand my meaning."

Sansa and Arya both had wide eyes as she said this. "I'll never have babies," Arya declared.

"Your husband may think differently," said her mother. Arya smoldered but said nothing.

"Not for many years yet, my little wolf," Arya's father said as he mussed her hair and Arya beamed at him.

"The Rosbys have always been a sickly family," Catelyn continued, in worry. "I will talk to the maester to ask on her health."

"Very well," said Robb. "But if not her, then I guess we shall have to fight for the bridge."

"Aye?" said his father with a stern look, then he relaxed. "So, you have decided. That is good."

"Now what do we do?" Robb asked. He had no clue what happens in a wedding.

"Now I go speak to Walder Frey," said Ned Stark. "As your father I will make the marriage contract and he dare not snub me as he did this morning. I will tell him who you have chosen. He must provide a dowry. Crossing a bridge is no wedding gift. I will make him give some coin and supplies for our army. That should suffice. We must find something to give to the girl as well."

"Give her a sword," said Arya at once. "So I can teach her how to fight."

"I don't want my wife carrying a sword," Robb declared. "She likes music. Perhaps a wood harp?"

His father shook his head. "Walder Frey will see that as an insult. It must be gold, or jewels."

"We have plenty of things to give her in Winterfell," Catelyn said. "It can wait."

"It must be now," her husband replied. "We must ask through the camp, to find some gold to melt down, to make into a decent wedding gift."

"We have no goldsmith," Robb reminded him.

"Gendry can do it!" Arya declared quickly.

"Don't they have a goldsmith here?" Sansa suggested quickly, ignoring what Arya said.

"Perhaps," said Ned. "I will ask. Time is of importance. Let us set to work, my family."

Suddenly Catelyn gasped. "I forgot!" she said to Robb. "You have no wedding cloak!"

"We can make one," said Sansa at once. "We can take some cloth and sew a direwolf into it."

"Make it Grey Wind, if you can," Robb asked.

"As you wish," his mother said. "Come girls, we having sewing to do."

"I'm no good at sewing," Arya said.

"Come with me to the forge then," Robb asked her. "We best find out if your…if Gendry can work gold or not."

As they came out of the tent a large crowd of Stark bannermen and lords and soldiers was waiting. "What news, my lords?" Lord Galbart Glover asked at once.

"We shall have a wedding," Ned Stark told them and a great cheer went up that carried along the river bank far and wide.

Stevron Frey and his son were there as well. "Who has he decided on?" Ryman asked, seeming drunk.

"I will discuss that with your grandfather," Ned told him. "Come, Ser Stevron. I have wedding plans to discuss with your father. Lord Glover, accompany me if you would."

"Aye," said Galbart Glover and the three men walked off towards the castle.

"Who did he pick?" Ryman asked again but no one talked to him and he just stood there with a stupid look on his drunken face as everyone dispersed.

"She's not his daughter, is she?" Sansa asked in worry as they walked away.

"No," said Robb. "Actually, she is one of Walder Frey's daughters. His fifth of seven she said. My squire is her brother."

Soon Catelyn and Sansa made their goodbyes to start making the wedding cloak and Arya and Robb were walking through the camp towards where Arya said Gendry had set up his forge near the river bank north of the castle. Grey Wind ran up to them and Arya ruffled his fur as they walked.

"I wish Nymeria was still with me," she said sadly.

"That was a terrible business on the Kingsroad," Robb said.

"Joffrey and the Hound and the Queen…I hate them all!"

"Aye," he replied. "The Hound may have saved Sansa's life but he is still a murderous dog."

"He should die."

"Some day he will. All men die," Robb told her.

They were silent for a minute thinking on that and then Arya spoke again. "Why did you pick her?"

Why indeed? "She's pretty," he told her after some hesitation. "She likes music. She's was not afraid to talk to me. She said she cared not for my victories or battle skill, only wanted to know if I was a good man or not."

"You are," said Arya and Robb felt good inside.

"Come, let's go see if your man can work gold."

She playfully punched his arm. "Don't call him that!"

"Aye," said Robb. "I suppose I shouldn't when so many Frey ears are nearby."

They found Gendry and the little boy called Tim with the old soldier who drove the wagon by the forge near the river bank north of the west bank castle. Gendry was heating a sword in the forge as Tim pumped the bellows and the old soldier stood by cleaning the sides of their horses. Gendry's face lit up when he saw Arya but he wiped the look off his face when he saw who was with her.

"My lord," he said as he dipped his head and Tim and the old soldier did the same.

"How's your shoulder?" Arya asked him right away.

"Getting better, but I have to use my left arm to beat the steel. Makes it awkward. Tried my right arm but it's still too sore."

"Make sure you don't open the stitches!" she admonished him. "Let me have a look. Take off your shirt."

"After," Robb said to her. "Gendry, can you work gold?"

"A bit. It's soft and easy to pound flat when heated a bit, and it melts well. I've melted it and poured it in a mold before. But I cannot make the molds or shape it in any fancy way."

"Aye," Robb said, nodding his head. "Hopefully the Twins will have a goldsmith."

"We need to make a wedding gift for his wife," Arya explained.

"There is to be a wedding?" Gendry asked.

"Aye, my wedding, on the morrow, perhaps," Robb told him.

"Just your wedding?" Gendry asked with a quick glance towards Arya and Robb knew what he was trying to ask.

"Aye," he answered. "Just mine."

"That is good news, my lord," he answered with a big smile.

"Thank you. I am sure we will have some tents with much food and drink for the men of the army."

"That would be good, my lord," Gendry replied.

"Well, I guess…" Robb began to say but then little Tim shouted.

"It's a boat!"

They all turned to where he was pointing and coming down river from the north was a small boat with two men in it. They rowed towards the west bank and in a few moments had pulled up to the shore. The men climbed out, pulled their boat onto the bank, and started walking up the bank towards Robb and the others. The men were short of stature and had brown hair and wore green and brown clothing. Both had short swords at their sides and short bows with arrow quivers across their backs.

"Tim," Robb said to the little boy. "Run and find some soldiers and bring them here."

Tim ran off and Robb looked at his sister. "Don't draw your sword yet," he said. "Let us see who they are first."

She only nodded, and put her hand on Needle as Gendry picked up his big hammer and the old soldier came to stand beside them.

"Bog men," the old soldier spat and Robb could now see it was true. He had met few of the crannogmen over the years, but these two had the look for sure. And who else would be rowing down from the north on the Green Fork?

Robb shouted to them when they neared the top of the bank. "Stop there and state your business."

The two looked tired and stopped to catch their breath before speaking. "We are looking for Lord Stark," said one of them.

"I am Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell."

"We need to see your father," said the other, who was just a bit taller than his companion but still much shorter than Robb or Gendry. "We have news from Howland Reed."

"My father is in the castle now," Robb said. "Come, tell me what news."

The two men climbed the rest of the way as Tim came back with ten men, some of the North, some of the Twins, Robb saw by their sigils.

The crannogmen were tired and Gendry gave them some water and they drank and thanked him.

"What news have you brought?" Robb asked when they were refreshed.

"Moat Cailin fell, more then ten days past," said one of them. "The ironmen are in all three towers, with many archers."

"Damn," Robb replied and there was a murmur of anger among the men around Robb. "How many men? How many ships?"

"Six ships we saw in Saltspear," said the other crannogman. "They could not get their big ships far up river but it was close enough to the Moat. They landed a few hundred men and many supplies by small boats. We think maybe Victarion Greyjoy is their leader."

That was ill news. He was a fearsome warrior, Robb had heard. "What else?"

"We have established ourselves nearby," said the first crannogman. "But we have no strength to attack the Moat. We tried to burn their ships but they stay far out from the shore and our fire arrows caused little damage. But we have whittled their numbers some when they tried to resupply."

"That's good," said Arya.

"We have even graver news, though," said the second man. "Some of your men came north soon after Moat Cailin fell. They were surprised and most of them slaughtered by the ironmen."

"Rickard Karstark?" Robb asked in worry and the man nodded and there were more angry words and promises of revenge from the men around him, even though most of them had had harsh things to say about the Karstarks a few weeks past.

"We found his body under his horse," the crannogmen continued. "He had three arrows in him. He soon died. They came near sunset, footsore and tired, and were ambushed as they approached the towers. We had just begun moving into the nearby swamps and had no time to warn them. When the attack began they lost many men in the first arrow volley. Then they kept charging forward, trying to reach the tower doors, the fools. Only about forty had the sense to retreat and survived. They are with us now."

Robb thanked them for their news and saw that they were taken care of, and given food and drink and a place to rest. Later they said they must see Walder Frey and Robb's father. As Robb stood on the edge of the river bank looking at the river and the two castles he gritted his teeth and felt some grief for those men of the North now lost.

"It's my fault," he said as his sister stood beside him. "I should never have let them go. I should have found a way to make peace with the Karstarks."

"You didn't order them to charge," she told him. "It's his fault for being stupid."

"Moat Cailin is too strong," Robb said. "And with Victarion Greyjoy in command, it will cost us too many men to take it back."

But Arya wasn't paying attention to him. She was looking down at the river's edge. "Look, a turtle."

Before he could stop her she ran down and picked up the small turtle and carried it back up to him. "Look," she said with a grin. "I'm going to keep it."

"Arya, let it go. It needs the water to live."

"But something will eat it." Grey Wind growled at the turtle as if to emphasize the point.

"Its shell will protect it," Robb said and she reluctantly agreed and returned the turtle to the water.

As she came back up, puffing with the effort the last few steps, suddenly an idea exploded in Robb's head. He looked at the turtle crawling back into the water and suddenly it was so clear to him. He was sure it had been done before, somewhere, but now it needed to be done again. But to do it he needed some help.

He turned and looked at Gendry, working the sword in the hot coals of the forge again. He was just an apprentice armorer but he knew so much already, Arya had said. Yes, Robb thought, Gendry could do the job with some help. It just might work and save a lot of lives in the bargain. It had to work, or they might never get home again.