CHAPTER ELEVEN
word count: 4005

               Taryn stared at the canopy all night, wishing sleep would claim her. Robb didn’t trust her. If she thought about it too long, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. What had she done wrong? Did he see her as guilty by association? How could she prove to him that he could trust her? (Taryn wasn’t sure if she could live at Winterfell for the rest of her life if Robb did not trust her. They were supposed to marry. She thought trust was a foundation of marriage. Or perhaps that was all her mother said to fill Taryn with hope.) Could Taryn even convince Robb to trust her after he accused her family of murder? Robb was no liar. He had to at least partly believe the claims he was making. She begged her mind to forget, willing time to rewind to before any of this had happened.

If any of what Robb said was true... Taryn shuddered as she considered the hypotheticals. She was not blind to her family’s past. She knew what the Lannisters were, the reputation of her mother’s name. Every family had secrets — doubtless there were things Taryn would not be privy to as a young girl — but if her uncles or her mother killed Jon Arryn, and Bran overheard someone talking about it... Perhaps that was why Robb did not tell her anything until it became too much. Taryn would defend her family until her last breath, she had to: she had no one else. Why did that come at the cost of Robb?

Taryn screamed into her pillow, muffling the sound as much as possible in the silence of the night. What motivation could there possibly be to kill the Hand of the King? Neither of Taryn’s uncles would hurt a child. Or disrupt the peace of the realm. Seven hells, Tyrion had visited Winterfell with a gift for Bran — if he was guilty, why would have done something good to a boy he had tried to kill? (Unless he was covering his tracks.)

“Don’t be stupid,” Taryn scolded herself with a quiet hiss.

The Lannisters had enough enemies, were any of them powerful enough to frame them for a conspiracy of this scale? Taryn rolled over and shut her eyes tightly and wished for a simple explanation. She could not change the world overnight, could not turn back time to unravel the truth. Was it too simple for Jon Arryn to die of a quick fever, and from Bran to slip? If Taryn’s uncles or her mother were involved — why?

***

Taryn did not sleep much the rest of the night. By sunrise, she began to think about who else Robb could have told about his suspicions. And Taryn realised the only friends she had at Winterfell were Jeyne and Lana, and Bran and Rickon. Taryn wished Robb was on her side, she wished he had trusted her sooner — even if she could not believe him, they could have gained an understanding together.

The Princess tried to lie to Jeyne and Lana when they came to join her for breakfast by saying that she had come down with some vague illness during the night. But her ladies believed none of it.

In the middle of Taryn’s splutter of lies, Lana’s eyes began to sparkle. “Lord Stark came to you last night.”

Taryn flushed, not liking how Lana’s statement wasn’t a question. Did they hear what she and Robb had discussed? When her ladies swapped glances and giggled, Taryn assumed not. “It isn’t anything like that.”

“It was late when I heard him leave,” Lana continued, sitting back comfortably on the bed while Jeyne adjusted the ties on the back of Taryn’s dress.

“You make it sound so inappropriate! Robb is still my friend.” Isn’t he? Taryn thought.

“In the middle of the night?” Jeyne questioned with a raised brow. “We’ve been here for months and you’re still unmarried.”

“Has he kissed you yet?” Lana asked.

Somehow Taryn blushed brighter. “Are things alright between you?” Jeyne asked, a comforting hand came to rest on Taryn’s shoulder.. “You have been acting a little strange for a while.”

Taryn wasn’t really sure how she could tell her friends what Robb had told her. If she told them, what would they think of Robb? What would they think of Taryn? “I think we should go to breakfast.”

For a change, Robb was at the breakfast table with his brothers and Theon. When Taryn and her ladies sat down at the opposite end of the table, Robb did not meet her gaze. When Theon looked at her, Taryn wanted to scream — she had not done anything wrong. But that did not stop the Greyjoy boy looking at her like her name was a curse to Winterfell.

There was little conversation during the meal. Not the awkward, tension-filled kind of silence that divided the room in half, just the quiet of an early morning. But Taryn felt it. She wondered if she should tell Lana and Jeyne what was happening — was it her place? Taryn kept trying to meet Robb’s eye, but he kept to himself and his hushed conversation with his brothers and friend, as family did.

I am alone, Taryn realised. She pushed her half-eaten plate of food away from her like another bite would make her head spin. Her heart was drawn in two places. I do not belong here.

“Taryn?”

She looked up. Bran was looking at her. An unusual joy peppered his voice. The kind of delight she had not seen in him since Tyrion’s visit.

“Would you come riding with us today? Robb says I’m allowed to take Dancer out properly.”

If Bran had been thrown and not fallen, who would dare to hurt him? He was just a child. Taryn put on a pretty smile. “I would love to. If I am allowed.” She looked at Robb, forcing him to look back at her. He did, at last.

Robb’s eyes were icy. Taryn couldn’t tell if the smile he gave was genuine, or one of guilt or pity. “Of course. We will be glad for your company.”

***

Outside Winterfell on horseback, Taryn felt free as the air. As though she had been taken back to those first days when she and Robb had gone riding, before anything bad had happened. Bran urged her to follow when he and Robb galloped ahead of everyone else, Taryn complied until the rest of the group fell out of sight behind them and she let the Stark brothers tear on ahead towards the wolfswood. She slowed her horse to a trot, content with the cold air biting at her face and the breeze turning her blonde curls into a tangled frizz.

Connecting with the world she had been distanced from for so long gave Taryn an odd sense of peace. She was alone, but willingly. She was far, far away from politics and suspicion and for a moment she had no worries at all.

Then guilt came crawling back from thinking about herself.

Taryn tilted her head to the sky. Snowflakes settled on her cheeks and eyelashes. “Tell me what to do,” she whispered to the gods. “Please. I don’t know what to believe.”

“I don’t think your gods will hear you out here,” Theon said with a laugh as he pulled his horse in next to Taryn. “You also shouldn’t be alone.”

Taryn looked away from him, staring at the woodland they were approaching. She suddenly felt stupid for praying for answers. “I’m not alone. And there’s nothing dangerous out here.” Did he expect her to turn and bolt south down the kingsroad to go home? She had nowhere else to go.

“You’re a Princess. Anything happens to you and we’re all dead. I’m not sure who would kill us first — your family or Robb.”

Taryn gave her horse a gentle kick to make him move faster. “You worry too much about me and King’s Landing.”

Theon cut in front of her, steadying her horse to a stop. His eyes turned harsh. “If you ever consider hurting Robb—”

“I would never. Why does no one believe that?”

“Because if we go to war against the Lannisters, Robb doesn’t know where your loyalty lies.”

“War?” Taryn was breathless. Robb couldn’t go to war. What if he was hurt? What if he…

Theon kicked his horse back into motion and turned his head back to yell, “Don’t break his heart.”

“I wouldn’t!” Taryn shouted after him. She huffed and set her horse to a quicker pace to reach the forest.

If everything was falling into the worst possible places, Theon was right. If what Robb told her was true, Taryn had to pick a side. Cut her heart in half and suffer with the pieces. Abandoning her family was incomprehensible — but so was hurting Robb.

Her soft heart a burden in her chest, Taryn admitted a six year truth. “I love him,” she told the gods. Her voice was but a whisper against the wind in her hair. “I love Robb. I can’t lose him like this.” The boy she had written to for almost half of her life; the young man with snowflakes in his auburn hair; the Lord of Winter whose touch was like the sun.

Taryn became enveloped by trees and made her choice: truth and justice.

***

Taryn walked her horse through the forest, watching hoof prints and listening for the wolves and boys.

She was glad to find Robb and Bran first. Trees peeled away to a stream that had grown deep and rushing. It was prettier here than the wide expanse of the kingsroad. The earthy forest smells were sweet to her, the rustle of leaves above would be distant and unheard in King’s Landing.

The brothers were crossing the river when Taryn approached. The tranquility of the forest suddenly became pierced by two wolves howling. Then Robb turned and found Taryn. He came to the water’s edge and beckoned her closer.

“Come on, I’ll help you across,” Robb offered, wading back through the water.

Taryn pulled her horse back. “You’re soaking wet. I’m sure I can make it myself.”

Robb shook his head and guided the reins out of Taryn’s hands when he reached her. “I’d rather not see you fall, love.”

Taryn blushed furiously at the nickname. Robb dropped his gaze, but she spied his shy smile as she stared down at him.

Robb led Taryn and her horse over the stream carefully. Even if he did not trust her, Taryn trusted him. If, somehow, she fell into the current, Taryn knew Robb would save her. As much as Taryn cared for Bran, she wished he wasn’t there so Taryn could soak in the moment and talk to Robb properly.

Once they were on the other side of the stream, Robb was quick to put distance between himself and Taryn and  mounted his horse. “The wolves just made a kill,” he said. Now he would not meet Taryn’s eyes again. “I’d best go and bring them back. Wait here, Theon and the others should be along shortly.”

“I want to go with you,” Bran said.

“I’ll find them faster myself,” Robb replied before disappearing into the trees.

The snow began to fall heavier, the ground very slowly became covered in a thin blanket of snow. In the stillness, Taryn began to feel cold. A few months up north had not changed her yet.

“Are you cold?” she asked Bran.

He nodded reluctantly. “A little.”

Taryn brought her horse closer to the boy and peeled off her gloves to fit them over Bran’s small hands.

“But now you will be cold…” Bran argued, trying to take off the second pair of gloves.

“Nonsense.” Taryn patted his hands. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Did something happen between you and Robb?” From Bran’s expression, Taryn wasn’t sure if the boy had truly wanted to blurt it out, no matter how much his eyes wanted to know.

Taryn looked away — staring into the trees Robb had vanished into. “Everything is fine.” She hoped she sounded a little convincing. “Why?”

“You don’t seem as happy as you used to be,” Bran said quietly. “Robb hasn’t been happy since Mother left, except when he talks about you. But now even that has changed. I want everyone to come home.”

“Bran…” Taryn was about to work out how to hug him and promise that somehow everything would be okay. She wondered why he still accepted her company when Taryn’s uncle had attacked Ned Stark in the streets. Did she deserve the Starks’ trust at all?

But before she could comfort him, there was a rustle of leaves — and a group of ragged strangers stepped out onto the bank of the stream.

“Good day to you,” Bran said nervously.

Taryn moved her horse in front of Dancer, trying to obscure Bran from the view of the strangers. She was ready to tell Bran to run, for them both to disappear into the trees if the strangers grew too close. But it would be worse for her and Bran to get lost in the woods — Robb knew where they were, the rest of their company would be with them soon.

Compared to the patched and fraying clothes of the strangers, Taryn might as well be hanging a sign that said they had come from Winterfell. She had never considered the need to hide her status through her clothes, until now.

“All alone, are you?” said the biggest of them, a bald man with a raw windburnt face. “Lost in the wolfswood.”

“We’re not lost,” Taryn quickly clarified. There were four in front of them, two behind. Her heart pounded as she tried to keep her voice calm. “My husband just rode off a moment ago. Our guards will be here soon.”

“Your guards?” a second man said. Grey stubble covered his gaunt face. “And what would they be guarding, my little lady? Is that a silver pin I see there on your boy’s cloak?”

“Pretty,” said a woman’s voice. She was tall and lean, with the same hard face as the others. The spear she held was eight feet of black oak, tipped in rusted steel.

“Let’s have a look,” said the big bald man.

This man and the grey stubbly man wore rags that were once probably black. Taryn’s fingers tightened around the reins. They were deserters from the Night’s Watch.

Taryn turned to Bran, he was staring at her anxiously. Quickly, Taryn unfastened the necklace that lived around her neck. Delicate and gold with an emerald hanging from the chain. It was a gift from her mother on her ninth name day — five years after... “Take this instead. It’s gold, I swear.”

The big man approached and snatched the necklace from Taryn’s extended hand to admire it.

“We’ll take the horses too,” said another of them, a woman shorter than Robb, with a broad flat face and lank yellow hair. “Get down, and be quick about it.” A knife slid from her sleeve into her hand, its edge jagged as a saw.

“No,” Bran blurted. “I can’t.”

Taryn hopped down from her horse and offered the mare to the strangers. “Take her. Leave the boy alone. Please.”

The big man grabbed Dancer’s reins and leered at Taryn. “The lordling will do as we ask, if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Stiv, look how he’s strapped on.” The tall woman pointed with her spear. “Might be it’s the truth he’s telling.”

“Straps, is it?” Stiv said. He drew a dagger from a sheath at his belt. “There’s ways to deal with straps.”

“You some kind of cripple?” asked the short woman.

Taryn stood taller, even though she was so much smaller than the six strangers. “I am Taryn Baratheon, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, and you will leave us now.”

The gaunt man with the grey stubbled face laughed. “You’re a long way from home, girl.”

“Fuck her stupid and then she might learn not to bite,” suggested the short woman.

“You’re as stupid as you are ugly, Hali,” the tall woman said. “Nothing more valuable than a Princess in any corner of the world. Harm her and we’re all dead.”

Stiv pushed Taryn away from Bran and towards his companions. She stumbled but kept her feet. Stiv slashed one of the straps around Bran’s thigh with ease. Bran did not flinch when blood began to flow.

“Put down your steel now, and I promise you shall have a quick and painless death,” Robb called out.

Taryn didn’t think she had ever been more happy to see Robb. He was atop his horse, the bloodstained carcass of an elk slung over the horse’s back. His sword was raised.

“The husband,” said the man with the grey stubbly face. Robb’s eyes moved to Taryn, confused.

“He’s a fierce one, he is,” mocked Hali, the short woman. “You mean to fight us, boy?”

“Don’t be a fool, lad. You’re one against six.” The tall woman, Osha, readied her spear. “Off the horse, and throw down the sword. We’ll thank you kindly for the mount and for the venison, and you, your wife and your brother can be on your way.”

Robb whistled and Grey Wind and Summer appeared through the undergrowth.

“Wolves,” gasped Hali.

“Direwolves,” Bran corrected. The direwolves were only half grown, but they were as big as any normal wolf.

“Dogs,” the big bald man said contemptuously. “Yet I’m told there’s nothing like a wolfskin cloak to warm a man by night.” He made a sharp gesture. “Take them.”

Robb launched into action. He kicked his horse and dove towards them. A man with an axe rushed towards him. Robb’s sword caught him in the face — the crunch and blood spray that followed made Taryn shriek in revulsion. Grey Wind pounced on the gaunt man with the stubble before he could touch Bran’s reigns. He fell into the water, shouting and flailing his knife. Grey Wind plunged into the stream after him and the water turned red. While Robb and Osha fought midstream, Taryn ran straight back to Bran.

She closed a hand over where he was bleeding. “Bran, I’m so sorry. I should have told you to bolt immediately.”

“It’s alright,” Bran promised. “It doesn’t hurt.”

A few feet away, Summer was devouring Hali. The sixth man was running away, until Grey Wind burst from the stream and grabbed the man by his throat and dragged him back into the water.

Stiv grabbed Taryn from behind before Bran could warn her that he was so close. Taryn fought back, managing to wrench herself free before she and the man tumbled into the water, further upstream than the blood. She shrieked at the chill of the water and tried to climb away, but Stiv took hold of her again — holding her tight against him as he set his dagger to Taryn’s throat.

Taryn could hear her heart pounding above the rush of the river. She tried to pull Stiv’s arm away, her hands dangerously close to the dagger. She looked at the scars across her palms, itching with memory. The rocks underwater were painful under her knees. Taryn couldn’t breathe.

“Back away,” Stiv warned, “or I’ll slit her pretty throat, I swear it.”

The fire vanished from Robb’s eyes and his sword arm dropped. The thick scent of blood reached Taryn’s nose and she felt violently ill. She focused on Robb.

“Call him off!” the man shouted towards Grey Wind, who was padding towards Osha who was crawling towards her fallen spear. “Call them both off, or the princess dies now.”

“Grey Wind, Summer, to me,” Robb called.

The direwolves stopped and turned their heads. Taryn realised Stiv was just as scared as she was.

“Osha, kill the wolves and get his sword.”

“Kill them yourself,” she replied. “I’ll not be getting near those monsters.”

Stiv’s hand trembled, his blade cut thinly against Taryn’s neck until she felt blood. “You,” he called to Robb. “You have a name?”

“I am Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell.”

“This is your wife?” Then he pointed to Bran. “And your brother?”

“Yes.” Robb did not look away from Taryn.

“You want her alive, do what I say. Off the horse.”

Robb hesitated. Then he dismounted, slowly and carefully, and stood with his sword held tightly.

“Now kill the wolves.”

Robb didn’t move.

“You do it. The wolves or the girl.”

“No!” Bran screamed.

If the direwolves died, Taryn and the boys would be quick to follow them. Taryn pressed as far away from the dagger as she could. “Robb, you can’t!”

With his free hand, Stiv wound Taryn’s hair tightly into his grasp until she stopped fighting. “You shut your mouth, Princess, you hear me?” He dragged her head back hard. “You hear me?”

A low thrum came from the woods behind them. Stiv gave a choked gasp as an arrow suddenly burst through his chest, dripping with blood. The dagger fell away from Taryn’s throat, slicing a shallow split into her skin as she lurched forwards. Taryn scrambled away, watching as Stiv collapsed facedown in the water, dead. She stared at his body in horror, and then searched his pockets desperately until she found her necklace and enclosed it tightly in her hands. Taryn looked beyond the water. Theon and the guards had arrived at last.

Taryn didn’t realise her cheeks were wet with tears until Robb pulled her into his arms and carried her out of the water. Sat on the snowy grass, Taryn clung to Robb as he knelt beside her. He touched her neck to wipe away the thin trails of blood. Taryn blushed at the way her breath caught in her throat.

“You’re safe,” Robb whispered like a promise. Taryn hoped he wouldn’t mention the lie she’d told the wildlings in his brief absence. “Can you stand?” She nodded and Robb helped her up.

Taryn’s wet clothes clung to her uncomfortably and she shivered. Robb unclipped his cloak and swept it around Taryn’s shoulders. “No, I’m fine, I swear.”

Robb didn’t listen and squeezed her hand.

The guards and even Maester Luwin were pale as they surveyed the slaughter. Taryn tried not to look, her head was spinning. She pulled Robb’s cloak around her tighter, it smelled like him. She managed a small smile.

“A dead enemy is a thing of beauty,” Theon boasted from where he stood, smiling, beside a tree.

“Jon always said you were an ass, Greyjoy,” Robb said loudly. “I ought to chain you up in the yard and let Taryn take a few practice shots at you. “

“You should be thanking me for saving your betrothed’s life.”

“What if you had missed the shot?” Robb argued. “What if you’d only wounded him? What if you had made his hand jump, or hit Taryn instead? For all you knew, the man might have been wearing a breastplate, all you could see was the back of his cloak. What would have happened to my betrothed then? Did you ever think of that, Greyjoy?”

Theon’s smile was gone. Robb did not leave Taryn’s side, instead encouraging her with him to approach Bran and Maester Luwin.

“How badly is my brother wounded?”

“No more than a scratch,” the maester said. He wet a cloth in the stream to clean the cut. “Two of them wear the black,” he told Robb as he worked.

Robb glanced over at where Stiv lay sprawled in the stream. “Deserters from the Night’s Watch,” he said grimly. “They must have been fools, to come so close to Winterfell.”

“Folly and desperation are often hard to tell apart,” Maester Luwin said.

“What happens to her?” Taryn asked, looking at Osha as she crawled out of the stream on her knees.

“Give me my life, m’lord of Stark, and I am yours,” the woman begged.

Taryn watched Robb glance back around them before he decided, “We’ll keep her alive.”

Author’s Note.

apparently the full moon tonight is called the wolf moon, so i had to update 😁

this is the longest chapter so far, i hope you enjoyed!! fingers crossed, we’re also officially over halfway through act one 👀

dialogue and description from the interaction with the wildlings is straight from chapter 37 of the book. i condensed some parts but didn’t rewrite much, so thank you grrm 🫶

thank you for reading 💞