Thread: Of Wolves and Lions (Iikaitlynii & Cold)

Robb Stark stood in the great hall of the Twins, surrounded by his banner lords, including his uncle, and his mother. He felt uneasy in this place, especially with the weaselly Lord Walder peering at him with those squirrelly eyes. He avoided looking at the man who had so brazenly had him bartering his seed for right of passage and fealty and focused instead on the doorway ahead. Soon enough, a long line of women would emerge from there and of them, he would have to choose one to marry and to love, from now until their deaths. The thought frightened him, though he would admit it to no one, not even Mother. He wore his wolfskin cloak over his clothes and his crown gleamed on his head. Grey Wind lay on the ground beside him, growling menacingly at the Freys from time to time. Robb fidgeted where he stood. How long would he have to stand? Someone touched him on the shoulder. He turned to see his mother smiling at him. Easy, Robb. She spoke in a low voice, so that no other heard them. She was speaking as the mother of Robb Stark, not that of the King in the North. I know you're nervous. I know you don't think much of the Freys. But this is the price you agreed to. And do not dismiss the Frey women on account of their blood. You may like what you see. She gave him a smile and gently pushed his hair back from his forehead. I'll be by your side, remember. He was glad of that. His nerves calmed somewhat, he looked again at the doorway from which his future bride would emerge. He wished she would hurry up. Ser Adam Marbrand, heir to the Marbrand name, was a broad-chested fellow of good humour and a taste for young maiden with comely eyes. He had bright brown eyes and a trimmed beard that accentuated his stately chin. Women fell for him at a glance and he often entertained them, but for some reason he had turned down many a marriage offer. Some suspected him of poofery. Others thought his ego too great to settle for a woman of any lesser House. That was not far from the truth. Ever since he had set foot in King's Landing, now eight years ago, Ser Adam had loved only one woman - the one woman he had known he could never have. Cersei Lannister, wife to Robert Baratheon and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. He had pined after her from the first time he had laid eyes on her in court, when he had knelt and sworn fealty to her husband. He had felt her eyes on him and for a moment they had met. There was no turning back then. He had slaked his lust on whores of fair likeness to Cersei, but that was no substitute. But now, Robert was dead and Joffrey was King and though he was a little shit, his mother was as regal as ever. Adam dreamed of taking her in his arms and ravishing her. Maybe now...he could. She was sitting on her small throne beside Joffrey that day. The boy was fidgeting on the Iron Throne, clearly bored with the proceedings. But there were many lords come from far lands to pay their respects and he had to abide. Or not. He leaped from the Throne and kicked the kneeling man in front in the face. A hush fell over the court. Cersei hurried to her son's side and spoke to him. Adam could see her face, contorted with rage. Joffrey, bastard that he was, spoke back and Adam's hand went to his sword, without thought. Steady, he told himself. He could hardly have the woman if he killed her son...who happened to be King. After a while, Joffrey left and Cersei took his place, accepting fealty from the remaining lords to in his stead. Adam watched her from his corner, content, for now, to do just that.