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The Winter Witch by Kneazle

Harry Potter & Game of Thrones Xover Rated: T, English, Adventure & Fantasy, [Hermione G., Robb S.] Roose B., Words: 281k+, Favs: 3k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Oct 16, 2017 Updated: Mar 20 2,575Chapter 11: I:XI

The Winter Witch XI

Note: Dialogue between Catelyn and everyone else is from 3x02, "Dark Wings, Dark Words," and Robb and Edmure comes from 3x03, "Walk of Punishment."

Later, Hermione would never be able to explain or tell how she ended up in Robb's war room at Riverrun, standing just in front of Robb's chair but leaving it vacant, in respect for the absent King. One either side of her by the head of the table stood Blackwood and Bracken, and behind her, just to the right as her silent guard and friend, was Torrhen, although the space between Hermione and Bracken was meant for Torrhen if he wished to move forward.

Just further down the table was Edmure, although close enough that Hermione could whisper and he'd hear her; on his side, both Jason Mallister and Karyl Vance, speaking lowly to the young Lord. The stress lines on Edmure's face were deep, but the more Mallister and Vance spoke, the more the lines lessened and Edmure seemed to relax.

Despite that, they were all tense. Ranging up and down the table, were other Tully bannermen: young Lord Lyman Darry at only eight years old, Lord Mooton, Lord Marq Piper who stood near Edmure, one of his best friends, and Lord Ryger; their various sons, knights, and squires. They arranged themselves in small clumps, or remained aloof.

Further down the table, a tall, wiry man with longish, lank black hair with a scowl on his face commanded Hermione and Edmure's attention. The man, Black Walder Frey, had remained behind at Riverrun while his father, Ryman Frey, joined Robb's attack of the Crag. Black Walder was an excellent soldier, and he knew it too; however, Hermione had heard rumours of the man's temper, and she was beginning to witness it firsthand.

Dividing lines had been drawn, and Hermione, Edmure, and Black Walder were all separate entities.

"We cannot let the Kingslayer's escape become common knowledge," Edmure addressed the room at large. "It will demoralize the troops, and set up back in our attempts to free my nieces."

"I agree," said Hermione, her own voice carrying in the room. Unlike the last time when she had been in it, a passive spectator to Robb's elevation of Lord of Winterfell to King in the North and the Trident, Hermione was coolly assessing the situation and drawing together plans and logistics. "Catelyn's release of Jaime Lannister was poorly timed, for one, but also incredibly short sighted. Does anyone even know what her reasons were for the release?"

Mallister began to shake his head, his mouth already moving in the shape of a "no," when Black Walder rudely interrupted. "Right, excuse me," he began, sounding anything but, "But why are you here?"

Any soft-spoken conversations that were occurring in the room suddenly fell silent. Behind her, Hermione felt Torrhen stiffen and shift into a more defensible position. Bracken, at her side, scowled and snarled out, "What are you getting at, Frey?"

Black Walder rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I'm just saying - she may be a witch and has helped out with her nifty parchments, but she's not a soldier. She doesn't know battle. What good is she doing by being here as opposed to remaining with the other women? Or, better yet, confined to a room until we have need of her again?"

Hermione blinked in shock.

Blackwood, however, responded quickly and angrily. "How dare you! How dare you impugn Lady Hermione like that! She has engaged in battle and bloodied herself for King Robb and the Riverlands!"

The Frey scoffed. "So she's warming more than just the King's bed, is she? Is that why you and ol' Bracken there are so quick to attach yourself to the bitch? Has she spread her legs and favours for your families? Is that how she saved Raventree Hall and Stone Hedge?"

Hermione stared in shock at the wiry man, barely able to comprehend the vile accusations he was spitting out. It was one thing to be called a Mudblood and looked down at for being smarter than others; it wasn't even the first time she was accused of being a "scarlet woman" as Rita Skeeter and Molly Weasley once called her - but this was the first time it was ever done blatantly to her face.

Torrhen was vibrating with rage behind her, and had swiftly brought out his sword from its sheath, although the tip was still pointed at the ground. His brown eyes were steely and hard, locked on Black Walder. Bracken and Blackwood were both competing with each other, shouting on top of the other's words, trying to be heard.

Others in the room were talking among themselves, or staring at her, or looking back at Black Walder in thought.

This is getting us nowhere, thought Hermione, bringing a hand up to rub at her temples and a burgeoning headache. We need to discuss Jaime Lannister's escape. We need to prepare for Robb's return, which will be within the day. Division within the ranks is bad.

It had been a long two and a half days: Hermione barely had any sleep, or any food, and she was running purely on exhaustion and frustration. In a magical user, that was a bad combination on any day, but in Hermione, who had a temper buried deep and a low tolerance for people on a good day, it was deadly.

Her magic snapped.

Sparks danced between her curls, and her brown eyes glowed amber. The air in the room electrified, charged up and grew thick - not just with the tension in the room, but with magic. Hermione had experienced the physical presence of magic before, a thick, heavy invisible blanket that sucked the air from the room and made the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end and her breath quicken: at the Battle of Hogwarts, and at the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. There was the smell of ozone, of a warm day's humidity about to break before a thunderstorm crashed down upon them all. Magic could be smothering, and for those who had no exposure to it, it silenced the room quickly.

"Black Walder," began Hermione coolly, her eyes flashing dangerously as she caught his dark eyes and held them. "Let me remind you of a few things: I don't need to be here. I don't need to support or help any of you in your war."

At that, both Bracken and Blackwood appeared smug, knowing that their homes were defended previously; other Lords had a slightly panicked look on their faces. But Black Walder met Hermione's stare and held it with all the contempt of Severus Snape facing down another melted cauldron by Neville Longbottom.

"But here's the thing," continued Hermione, her voice even, not vibrating with the fury she felt, "I'm choosing to be here."

And I really am, she thought in wonder, Just like years ago I chose to stand by and lie to professors I admired for two eleven year olds who saved my life. It changed everything… and I think this will, too.

"So if you have a problem with that, Frey," finished Hermione, a slight sneer on her mouth, bringing up a hand and pointing, "Then the door is over there."

The man remained silent, his eyes tripping over each and every Lord in the room. While some appeared affronted by Hermione's tone, others met Black Walder's gaze solidly, no more than Bracken and Blackwood, who stood proudly next to the witch.

"I see," he said, quietly, something off in his tone. Sensing the way the wind was shifting, Black Walder nodded his head once at Edmure, and said, "So be it."

He then left the room, several other Freys joining him.

Hermione exhaled silently, and then, turned back to Edmure. "Do we know why your sister let Jaime go?"

Taking the quick change in subject, Edmure sighed. "No. As soon as I discovered the empty room, I had Tully guards place her under arrest."

Hermione stared. "Does she know why?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by Hermione loud hiss of exasperation. She turned to Blackwood, and said, "Can you go get her and bring her here?"

Instead of looking to his liege lord, Edmure, for permission, he nodded at Hermione and signalled a few of his guards to join him; they quickly left the room. Hermione, her mind already tripping ahead and wondering why Catelyn had done what she had, completely missed the shocked looks that split between looking at Edmure - who seemed vaguely uncomfortable with what happened - and the nonplussed reactions of Torrhen and Bracken near Hermione, by the many others who remained in the room.

Soon, Catelyn was escorted in the room her chin up and face haughty. Her hands were clasped at the front of her blue dress, and she imperiously cast her gaze around the war room, lingering on her brother who stood uncomfortably under her scrutiny. However, despite how regal she tried to appear, her blue eyes were red-rimmed, and her nose twitched as she held back sniffles.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, her voice filling the silent room of milling Lords, all who stared hard at her.

"Cat," implored Edmure, "Please. Help us understand. Why did you let the Kingslayer go?"

"Why?" the redheaded Stark stared hard at her brother. "Why?" She gave a bitter, hollow laugh. "Because a mother protects her children. I did what I had to do to save my girls."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She'd seen mothers protect their children during her war: Molly Weasley killed Bellatrix for Ginny's life; Andromeda and Tonks both did what was necessary for their children, even if Tonks sacrificed her life in the process; Lily Potter gave her life for her son. Letting a man go instead of doing something herself was not protecting anyone.

"So what was the plan here?" asked Hermione, crossing her arms and leaning a hip against the table and she drew Catelyn's eyes to hers. "You let Jaime Lannister go, with Brienne of Tarth as… what? A sword and shield? And then what?"

"He'll return to King's Landing," said Catelyn confidently. "With Tywin's favourite son returned, they'll return Sansa to me."

Hermione, who knew that only Sansa was in King's Landing, was curious though about Catelyn's omission of her other daughter. An uneasy feeling crept up Hermione's spine. "And Arya?"

Catelyn shifted. "And Arya, too, of course."

"Because they're both in King's Landing," continued Hermione, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, that's right," said Catelyn, her voice slowly shifting from confident to confused.

"And two girls for the price of one man is fair, you think?"

Catelyn frowned. "They're little girls. Jaime Lannister is a soldier. It's a fair trade."

There were murmurs around the room, angry ones. Hermione cut it off quickly. "And say that Tywin would ever take you up on this offer - ignoring that he hasn't since when Jaime Lannister was our prisoner - how would Arya and Sansa get to Riverrun with only Brienne of Tarth as their escort? Isn't the road dangerous and long?"

Catelyn fidgeted. "I'm - um - I'm sure that my son would sent a proper escort to meet them on the King's Road."

"And then straight to the Twins for a wedding, I'd imagine," concluded Hermione. She drummed her fingers on the table.

"At least I'd know my children are safe," declared Catelyn angrily. "The ones I have left!"

The room's angry muttering grew louder, and Hermione heard some threats towards the Greyjoys and the Ironborn host holding Winterfell.

"Right, about that," sighed Hermione, drawing attention once more, "Bran and Rickon-"

"What about my sons?" demanded Catelyn, stepping forward. At her side, Blackwood reached out and clamped a hand on her shoulder, keeping her still. She glared at the man and then turned her eyes back on Hermione, who refused to flinch under the angry blue.

Hermione fought the urge to rub at her forehead. "Do you even read the parchment I spelled for everyone?" When Catelyn refused to answer, remaining to glare, Hermione knew that she only used it to connect with her son and then probably ignored it.

Hermione let a curse from her non-magical childhood slip past her lips in frustration. "Jesus Christ, Lady Stark - when I was with Robb the other night, we found out Bran and Rickon are still alive. You let Jaime Lannister go free for nothing!"

Catelyn's face blanched white and she swayed on her feet. Around them, the room erupted into chaos, Vance and Mallister both shouting something about reclaiming the Kingslayer at all costs; Bracken was hollering at Marq Piper and young Lyman Darry just stared wide-eyed around him.

Hermione scowled and slipped her wand from its holster and then pointed it in the air. A loud boom of displaced air - louder than anything these men had heard before - made them fall silent.

"Gods above," whispered Catelyn, horror in her voice, "What have I done?"

"Lady Stark," said Hermione, but the other woman continued, eyes fixated on some far point.

"Everything that's happened, all this horror that's come to my family…," she trailed off, voice shaky. "It's all because I couldn't love a motherless child."

"What?" Hermione frowned, and turned her head to look at Bracken, who shrugged.

"Cat," protested Edmure, stepping away from Vance and Mallister, to move around the table to go to his sister, "No, that's not true-"

"I couldn't keep my promise, I couldn't keep it," the other woman was muttering.

"Who is she talking about?" asked Bracken in a low voice by Hermione's side.

"Jon Snow, I think," supplied Torrhen, his own voice low, eyes on the woman.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Robb's brother?"

"Half-brother," supplied Torrhen, "He was Lord Stark's bastard."

Hermione scowled at the term, carefully watching the King's mother break down in front of her and the rest of the riverlands Lords. Edmure had eased around the table and was standing in front of his sister, hands on her shoulders.

"I'm a bad mother," she was saying, "I couldn't keep my promise, Edmure. I couldn't! I prayed for Bran to survive. Years before that, one of the boys came down with the pox. Maester Luwin said if he made it through the night, he'd live. But it would be a very long night. So I sat with him all through the darkness, listened to his ragged little breaths, his coughing, his whimpering."

"Cat," warned Edmure, his voice stuck between sorrow and caution, "Don't do this - don't."

"But, I couldn't keep my promise! When my husband brought that baby home from the war, I couldn't bear to look at him, didn't want to see those brown stranger's eyes staring at me. So I prayed to the gods 'Take him away, make him die,'" her voice quivered and her chin trembled, her eyes unfocused. "He got the pox and I knew I was the worst woman who ever lived. A murderer. I'd condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death all because I was jealous of his mother, a woman he didn't even know!"

A sob tore from her throat, and she brought her hands to her face to cover, her shoulders trembling. Blackwood stepped away in shock, and Edmure closed his eyes, face upturned. But Catelyn Stark continued, "I prayed to all Seven Gods 'Let the boy live. Let him live and I'll love him. I'll be a mother to him. I'll beg my husband to give him a true name, to call him Stark and be done with it, to make him one of us.'"

Hermione sighed. Catelyn may have been a poor mother to a motherless child, and made some awful, awful decisions, but she was clearly beyond any form of rational thinking and had been for some time.

"Edmure?" asked Hermione softly. The redhead turned, his sister in his arms and a question in his eyes. "Take her to her room? With some wine and dinner?"

There was a kind of gratefulness in the man's similar blue eyes, and he left quickly with his sister, leaving Hermione wonder just what was wrong with the Tully family.

"What now?" asked Bracken.

Hermione rolled her shoulders back. "Now, let's brainstorm ideas about Jaime Lannister, so that when Robb gets here, we're not stuck looking like headless chickens."

It took them a better part of a day and a half, stopping only for a few hours, to reach Riverrun from the Whispering Woods. And Robb spent the majority of that time mulishly pondering over Hermione's behaviour.

Was she angry that he executed the Maester of the Westerling's? He had admitted to being a loyal Lannister man, and for not doing his best to help him when injured. Was she angry that he had done the execution over giving the opportunity to one of his men? He didn't like the idea that she was angry at him - but he didn't know why.

"Your Grace."

Robb pulled himself from his thoughts and turned to face Karstark, who rode beside him. The other man's face was turned forward, eyes on Riverrun in the distance. Around the fortress were hundreds of tents of varying size and shape, meant for the numerous soldiers under the Lord's command. Normally a hive of activity, the camp was quiet.

Robb narrowed his eyes, skipping from the gently flapping banners that hung from posts and the battlements of Riverrun, as well as a silent sentries that stood guard around the camp and his grandfather's castle. The castle itself was still under Tully control, but there was something missing from the men.

Robb led the procession and the army that Hermione had Portkeyed out of the Crag down the winding road until they reached the camp. The men they passed bowed to their King, but were otherwise silent. The air was tense, and something unpleasant hung around the men.

"By the Gods," muttered Greatjon from behind, "What happened here?"

The Lords around him ordered their men to areas around the camp, the soldiers grateful for the reprieve from the battles and long march back towards Riverrun, but for Robb and the liege Lords, they went straight to the castle with their squires.

In the courtyard, Edmure, and Maester Vyman, along with the Tully household alone greeted them. Robb was instantly concerned.

"Where's my mother?" he demanded, swinging from his horse. "Where's Hermione?"

Edmure grimaced and shared a glance with Vyman, who looked equally disturbed on his wrinkled face. Robb let his hand fall to his pommel, and behind him, he could hear the creak of leather as his guard prepared for a hostile welcome.

"It's best you come inside, Your Majesty," said Edmure eventually, barely flicking his eyes up to meet Robb's face. "To the war room, I think."

Robb's face hardened and with a sharp nod, he strode past Edmure, with Daryn, Lucas, Eddard, and Dacey following; the rest of the Lords, including Karstark, Umber, Bolton, and his Great-Uncle made their haste on his wake. He could hear his great-uncle hiss at Edmure, "What in the Stranger's name happened?"

Inside the war room, Robb came to a sudden halt. There were large maps pinned up on the wall opposite the windows, with strings leading from one point to another with pins. Around him, squires were rushing back and forth, taking parchment and orders from the room back towards the main camp outside the gates, and the Lords within the room were off in different groups: one far group led by Jason Mallister was pouring over books from the Riverrun library, barking orders and commands about - Robb frowned. Alternative battle strategies?

Near the fireplace, Karyl Vance, Marq Piper, and Lyman Darry were counting numbers and census figures, checking provisions.

And at the head of the table where Robb sat, stood Hermione, holding court of her own, with Blackwood, Bracken, Lord Mooton and Lord Ryger alongside, absently dodging flying books, scrolls, and parchment; Ryger was handing something that looked like a hair comb to Lady Hermione. Torrhen stood at Hermione's side, nodding at something she was saying.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

Robb cringed as his voice carried angrily into the room, stopping all movement as everyone turned to him. Immediately, the Lords sitting rose to their feet and then sank to their knees; only Hermione remained standing, completely engrossed in reading off a book she had on the table, her wand tracing something in the air.

"Your Grace," began Lord Jason Mallister, stepping forward. "There is much that has happened since you left for the Crag."

Robb eyed the man. "I can see that." Frustration leaked through his voice. "Now will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

Edmure nervously slinked up to his nephew's side, though his eyes were on Hermione. "Ah, Lady Hermione? Now that we're all here…?"

Robb frowned. Since when do the men defer to Lady Hermione?

Hermione snapped up from the book, eyes falling on Robb. They crinkled at the corners, slightly, and Robb felt an answering grin on his side; it quickly slid off his face as she realized she was smiling at him. He stifled a sigh, and moved towards his seat at the head of the table, ducking under a flying parchment.

"Lady Hermione?" he said, pointing at it.

Sheepishly, Hermione flicked her wand and the flying texts and scrolls zoomed towards her and then into her beaded bag, disappearing into its depths. "Sorry," she said, and then stepped aside for him to sit in his chair.

It was a cue for the rest of the Lords, and they all soon arranged themselves in their preferred seats; the right to Robb was left empty, and Hermione, after a long moment of looking around and seeing who would sit there, finally sighed when she realized it was for her. Robb hid a smirk behind his hand and then leaned forward slightly, addressing the room at large, "Now. Who is first?"

The Riverlands Lords and Hermione all shared looks, something Robb didn't miss with his keen eyes, and then Jason Mallister and Karyl Vance were explaining about Tywin's force moving into the riverlands the week previous while Robb had been at the Crag.

While both Vance and Mallister gave glowing reports of their prowess of their men, of Edmure's command, and the routing of the Lannister army, including sending Tywin in retreat, Robb found himself growing more and more annoyed. Did I not tell them to hold Riverrun? There was a reason for that - now Tywin is in retreat and I have no idea where he is!

Then, a worst thought occurred: this was why Hermione was covered in blood! She was in battle! at that, his eyes swung towards Torrhen just to the side of him. Torrhen felt Robb's eyes on him. Upon meeting Robb's eyes, Torrhen flushed and realized that his king knew. The man stiffened and squared his shoulders, standing behind Hermione's seat and looking resolutely forward.

With growing ire, Robb suddenly had visions of problems among the Riverlands lords. While the northern lords had Ironborn raiding their coasts, the Riverland lords would have avenging Lannisters knocking on their keeps once Robb left. If only Edmure hadn't let Tywin escape! He could've engaged him in battle now and taken the man completely out! And then the Kingslayer and the Lord of Casterly Rock would've been his to bargain with for Sansa's release.

Glancing around the room, Robb saw that his great-uncle had a thunderous look upon his face as he too realized what Edmure's blunder cost them; even Bolton and Karstark were looking disapprovingly at his uncle.

"My Lords," interrupted Robb, stopping Vance mid-description of the battle from the northern part of the Red Fork where he had command, "Can I have all but those with me from the Crag, Lord Edmure and Lady Hermione clear the room?"

The men were confused, but Lyman Darry was the first to get up from his seat; quickly, Lord Mooton and Ryger joined, with Vance and Mallister. Marq Piper, one of Edmure's closest friends, trudged slowly out of the room, and Blackwood and Bracken were deeply hesitant, constantly glancing back at Hermione, until she jerked her head to the side and they left.

What was that about? wondered Robb, frowning. Another thing to look into.

Then, he turned to his uncle, who sat alone without the bookends of Mallister and Vance. Robb stared at him for several long minutes, and as each passed, Edmure grew more and more agitated. Finally, he cleared his throat and began, "Ah, if I may, nephew, I encountered a situation with one of my lieutenants at the Stone Mill which may have some bearing-"

His Great-Uncle snorted loudly. "Why don't you shut your mouth about that damned mill? And don't call him 'nephew.' He is your king."

Edmure frowned, and looked from his uncle to his nephew, confusion warring on his face. "Robb knows I meant him no disr-"

Brynden slammed a hand on the table. "You're lucky I'm not your king. I wouldn't let you wave your blunders around like a victory flag!"

"Blunders?" sputtered Edmure. "My blunder sent Tywin's mad dog scurrying back into the westerlands with his tail between his legs. I think King Robb understands we're not gonna win this war if he's the only one winning any battles. No, there's glory enough to go around!"

Hermione winced at Robb's side, making the King glance at her, and then round back to the other redhead in the room. "It's not about glory. Your instructions were to wait for him to come to you."

The Blackfish added, "You were commanded to hold Riverrun, Edmure, no more."

Edmure shot to his feet in protest. "I held Riverrun, and I bloodied Lord Tywin's nose—"

"So you did. But a bloody nose won't win the war, will it?" said Robb knowingly, staring down the other man.

Hermione however, jumped into the conversation. "Hey now! That's not fair. Yes, your instructions said 'Hold Riverrun' but that was it! For how long? Why? What purpose? Was Edmure supposed to let Tywin Lannister siege Riverrun? What did you mean?"

"I-" began Robb, only for Hermione to run over him again, causing him to snap his mouth shut.

"Edmure and I decided together that your decision to 'hold Riverrun' meant that you wanted to lure Lord Lannister in and then hold him from doing a strategic retreat to where his forces were. We planned accordingly without sacrificing Riverrun or any other major holdfasts in the area."

Edmure nodded along. "I seized an opportunity."

Robb turned his head from Hermione to Edmure in disbelief. "What value was the mill?"

"The Mountain was garrisoned across the river from it," answered Edmure promptly, jutting his chin out a bit as he did so.

Robb frowned. "And is he there now?"

"Of course not. We took the fight to him. He could not withstand us," said Edmure, thinking back to his battle with the large man.

"Gods, Edmure!" swore Robb. "I wanted to draw the Mountain into the west, into our country where we could surround him and kill him. I wanted him to chase us, which he would have done because he is a mad dog without a strategic thought in his head. I could have that head on a spike by now!"

"Well, you didn't say that, did you?" snapped Hermione, standing up from her seat next to him. Robb turned to face her, blinking at the sight of her with her hands on her hips and her hair crackling. "What's the point of having a method of contacting each other instantaneously if no one bloody uses it?"

"That's not the point, Hermione," argued Robb hotly, also standing. "The point was that there were orders, and I expect my men to follow them! If they don't follow orders, how can I trust them to have my back in battle? To ensure a battle is successful?"

"We took hostages," said Edmure, glancing nervously between the two as he slowly sat down, "Willem Lannister. Martyn Lannister. Lyle Crakehall."

Robb swung his head to glare at his uncle. "Willem and Martyn Lannister are fourteen years old!"

Karstark cleared his throat. "Martyn is fifteen, I believe."

"Tywin Lannister has Sansa," said Robb loudly, glaring at both Edmure and then Hermione. "Have I sued for peace with his son?"

Edmure and Hermione shared a look, and then Edmure said, slowly, "No…"

"Do you think he'll sue for peace because we have his…" Robb frowned, thinking back to his lessons with Maester Luwin at Winterfell as they went over family trees. "His father's brother's great-grandsons?"

Edmure began to fidget, eyes darting back to Hermione with more frequency. "No…"

Robb's face hardened, and his anger boiled over. "Gods, what is wrong with you? Why are you looking back at Lady Hermione like a whelp to his wet nurse?"

"Hey!" protested Hermione, but Edmure stuttered, "Well, you see… your mother…"

"My mother what?" demanded Robb. Neither Edmure nor Hermione spoke; both in fact, look away from him. "What? What happened?"

Angrily, Hermione glanced at Robb. "Because someone doesn't use his communication parchment properly, a certain Lady of Riverrun didn't know her sons were still alive, so she let… um, Jaime… go free."

Robb gaped at Hermione. His eyes went to Edmure, who flushed red and avoided him, and then to Torrhen who, miserably, nodded his head. Then -

"WHAT?"

His roar shook the room, and he spotted Karstark cringe from the corner of his eye. The thought of his mother doing something so stupid - so treasonous - was mind boggling, but the way Edmure, Hermione and Torrhen all avoided looking at him spoke the truth.

"I'm guessing that in addition to not telling your mother that Bran and Rickon are alive, you conveniently forgot to mention that Arya isn't even in King's Landing," continued Hermione, scathingly. "Because she seemed to think that Jaime Lannister is worth two daughters."

Standing beside the witch, Robb's hands clenched into fists. "So you're telling me that not only were we unable to corral the Mountain, which I had planned for; but my mother let the Kingslayer go? And on top of that, my uncle seems to think he's a brilliant military commander, able to make decisions?" Robb turned back to Edmure, demanding snappishly, "How many men did you lose?"

Edmure stuttered, "Two hundred and eight. But for every man we lost, the Lannisters-"

"We need our men more than Tywin needs his!" shouted Robb, his patience finally gone.

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't know," muttered Edmure.

"You would have!" snapped Robb. "Right here today at this gathering if you had been patient!"

Bolton cleared his throat and said, quietly, "We seem to be running short of patience here. And there seem to be many more issues to rectify that we did not anticipate originally."

Robb scowled. "You know who isn't losing his patience? Tywin Lannister."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Robb, you don't know that. The man lost over half his force at the Battle of the Fords, as Edmure's been calling it. I myself took out an entire unit of his and the Mountain was sent scurrying, severely wounded. They didn't even head back towards the westerlands, but southeast - either towards Harrenhal or King's Landing. It's not nearly the blunder you're making it out to be."

"And what would you know of military matters?" snapped Robb, turning to face the witch, eyes narrow.

Hermione, hearing words that were echoed by Walder Frey so recently, narrowed her own eyes back. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" Robb was breathing heavily. "Just what have you contributed to this, Lady Hermione? In your world, are you a mighty warrior? Do witches go forth to battle?"

Instead of saying anything back, Hermione wordlessly snarled at Robb and then spun on her heel, striding towards the door to the war room angrily. Torrhen, caught between remaining by his King, and following the King's order of protecting Hermione, glanced nervously between the two.

Hermione then pushed open the door with her magic, making it slam against the stone. Outside, several of the riverlands Lords he had dismissed were milling around, and they all stared. Then, Hermione, her arm mimicking the motion, used her magic to make the door slam shut again.

Robb, furious that she turned her back on him, grit out to those in the room, "Pardon me, my Lords."

"Oh, thank the Gods," muttered Karstark, "Yes, please, go have a bloody row."

Robb barely heard him, angrily following in Hermione's steps. He yanked the door open and glared around; eventually, Vance felt the need to point in the direction Hermione took off in, silently, and Robb's glower deepened as he realized he had to chase her down in his own castle.

Robb raced up the stairs towards Hermione's bedchamber, two at a time, ignoring the shrieks of a few maids as they went about their daily tasks, and dodging around one steward who flattened himself to the wall as the King raced by. Eventually, Robb made it to Hermione's room, and he banged his closed fist on the door.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "Let me in! We're not done talking!"

Silence answered him.

He growled, and then forced the door open, the momentum making him stumble into the room. His eyes darted around, looking from one corner to the next but Hermione was not in. His eyes stopped on her green tent, and he sucked in a breath.

He warily approached, but then steeled his nerves and pushed the flap away, entering the strange, magical building. At once, strange musical notes assaulted him, creeping from down the hall beyond the living and kitchen area.

Robb followed, and stopped in front of an open doorway. Hermione was curled up on a small cot, knees towards her chest and on her side. In her hand was a strange flat piece of stiff parchment, off-white in colour. Opposite her cot was a desk, one that had several precariously stacked books, and a strange box, a crank on one side, and a golden horn that protruded from the box itself, standing up. The end of the horn opening wide like a flower blossoming. The music was coming from it.

There was a strange grainy quality to the music, with crackles and pops. The top of the box held a black disk that spun, and a golden arm with thin needle roved on top of the disk. A man's voice broke through the strange horn and harp-like music that was much deeper than anything Robb had heard.

"... No one to talk with / All by myself / No one to walk with / I'm happy on the shelf / Ain't misbehavin', / I'm savin' my love for you," the man sung in a gravelly, heavy voice.

Hermione's sniffle broke broke between the next words the man sang.

"Hermione?"

Hermione wiped at her eyes with the left sleeve of her shirt pulled down and tightly held in her closed fist. She ignored him, and Robb inched into the tiny bedroom. Once he was close enough, he realized that the parchment she held was not a letter, but a portrait of some sort.

Robb gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. "Hermione? What's this?"

"The Defense Association," said Hermione quietly. "Also known as Dumbledore's Army."

Army, thought Robb, glancing at her thoughtfully. However, he was still angry and refused to speak more.

"See her?" she continued, pointing to a tall, pretty, wavy blonde-haired girl standing near the back right. "That's Lavender Brown. She was seventeen when she died. She was mauled to death by a werewolf."

Robb swallowed thickly, his anger slowing.

"And this?" she pointed to a mousy brown-haired boy near the front. His face was still round with baby fat. "That's Colin Creevey. He snuck back into the castle when the battle began, along with his younger brother Dennis. Colin was fourteen; his brother Dennis lives with the scars of knowing he was thirteen when his brother was murdered just because he was a Muggleborn, like me."

"Hermione - I -"

"I don't stay out late / Don't care to go / Home about eight / Me and my radio / Misbehavin', savin' love for you…"

The music popped and crackled and skipped, and then was silent except a strange whirring noise as something looped over and over.

Hermione rolled onto her back and sat up. She pushed back the left sleeve of her shirt and Robb stared in silent horror at the carved word on her forearm. "Last year. I was tortured and I'll live with this forever. And then not even a week later, we were fighting for our lives at the Battle of Hogwarts, against men double or triple our ages because the adults we looked up to, those who were supposed to protect us, couldn't."

Robb looked up slowly from her arm to her face, and sucked in a breath at the intensity he found in Hermione's eyes. He held them, even as she said lowly, "Don't ever question me about battle, about what I have lost. You don't know."

Robb nervously swallowed, feeling much of his anger leave him a quick rush of emotion. He looked back down at her arm and nodded. By its own violation, his hand shakily stretched forward and then, tentatively, traced the letters of her scar. They were raised, bumpy and red.

M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D, he thought, reading each letter as he moved his finger. She shivered and he withdrew his hand.

"I didn't know," he said quietly.

"I didn't tell you," she replied just as quietly.

Robb sighed and let his hands fall to hang between his knees, hunching his shoulders. "Hermione - you can't - in front of my men, you can't just -"

He glanced at her and saw that she had cringed and was blushing furiously, a splash of pink across her nose and cheeks. "I'm sorry." She shuddered. "There's no excuse - I'm just so used to arguing and talking to Harry and Ron -"

"Harry and Ron?" Robb felt something unpleasant twist in his stomach.

Hermione extended her hand with the portrait, and pointed at the two men on either side of her. "We took this photo near the end of our fifth year. That's Harry," she pointed at the black-haired teen, "and that's Ron," she finished, pointing at the redhead.

"Who are they?" asked Robb, eyes skipping over the others: two twin redheads, their matching solemn faces reminding him of Torrhen and Eddard Karstark; a tall black teen, another tall teen with round cheeks and a serious face, though his eyes were driven with desperation to prove himself, and several girls with different hair colours and strange dresses.

"My best friends," said Hermione, tracing their features. The black-haired teen - Harry - then grinned and waved, and Robb goggled.

"My Lady-! That portrait moved!"

Hermione gave a tiny laugh. "That's magical photos for you."

She quieted and said, "Robb, I am sorry. I'm so used to yelling at Ron to talk sense into him; and Harry is so stubborn - I guess… I just fell back into that pattern with you. I've had more male friends my entire life than female, and I'm used to being the one everyone comes to for help. When you and your men did the same…"

Robb sighed. "You did the same as before."

Hermione nodded miserably. "I didn't mean to question your leadership or your skills, I swear! I guess I… got caught up in the moment."

Robb reached forward and wrapped his hand around Hermione's free one. She glanced at him. "No harm done."

She remained skeptical. "Are you sure? I'm certain everyone heard us yelling."

"And saw me chase after you," agreed Robb with a small grin.

Hermione groaned. "This will just make things worse with Walder Frey."

"Black Walder? Why? What happened?" asked Robb.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing I can't handle. Don't worry about it."

Robb gave her a look, but didn't push. Instead, he sighed, and squeezed her hand. "What am I going to do about my mother?"

"Oh, Robb," said Hermione, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't think your mother is quite… right in the head. She was… so upset at the idea of losing her children that she did something terrible. But I can find Jaime Lannister, I know I can. That's what we were working on when you came in."

"I'll talk to my mother," agreed Robb, "And as for the Kingslayer, well - he'll have some distance to cover if he's planning on returning to King's Landing. You and Bolton still have Harrenhal to attack."

"You still… want me?" asked Hermione, hesitantly. She bit her lip and glanced away.

Robb leaned forward, catching Hermione's eyes as they sat side-by-side on her bed in a strange, magical tent, and Robb, being far more honest than he even knew, replied, "Hermione. I don't think there will ever be a time when I don't want you."

Hermione beamed at him, and for that moment, everything was fine in Robb's world.

Notes: this is the calm before the storm, folks, so strap in. We're going to be gearing up and going forward, hurtling towards an end I already have written and can't wait to share. *evil cackle*

The song in the chapter - the two lyrics - is Louis Armstrong's "Ain't Misbehavin'" although I used the Bryan Ferry Orchestra version from the Great Gatsby (2013).

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