Savages - LolaStark

Chapter Twenty

[Garlan]

There was a heavy feeling in the air. He and Fallon had barely spoken since they began their journey aside from a welcomed hug of relief upon seeing him in the village. He'd only been able to steal one horse but neither had complained as they set off on their journey with an urgency he'd never seen in her before. He had been expecting a trip to the coast, to White Harbor even to get on the first ship to Skagos. But she'd directed them South with an quick story of Roose Bolton's plot against their King.

After hearing that he'd wasted no time.

Danger or not, there would be no convincing his Lady that Skagos was much safer than their quest to save Robb at the Twins. Therefore instead of hours of heated arguing, he skipped the glares and the shouts and opted to go with her plan. She had thanked him for that.

Days upon days turned into listless nights on the road, huddled together by the fire in order to keep the bitter wind from freezing them at night. Fallon quickly gained her strength after about a week of travel and the bruises began to fade until they were faint. But still he saw them as reminders of the pain she'd endured due to his incompetence. He should have never let her go to Winterfell. But every time he'd mention it, she'd simply reply that if she hadn't been in that tower, she wouldn't have known about the plot to kill Robb. There she had a point.

He'd stolen clothes for her, trousers and a tunic that would keep her from standing out but he'd refused to cut her hair when she'd requested he do so. Her long, raven locks fell down her back, tied in a ribbon that was then covered by her cloak and to him that was good enough. 'Cropping your hair will fool no man,' he had told her, only to receive one of her angry faces that only made him laugh.

They'd reached the forest just near the mouth of the Green Fork River, by nightfall on the twelfth day. Taking the King's Road would have allowed for them to arrive nearly four days prior, but both knew the dangers of being a fugitive on the road. And neither was willing to take the risk of getting captured once again. If Fallon was recognized, she'd never make it to the Twins in time for the wedding. And not even Garlan was convinced she could survive another spout in captivity.

As it turned out, they were only a day's ride from the Twins. Their horses were tired and both agreed that rest was in order. Garlan had taken to building a small fire, something that wouldn't draw too much attention in this part of the forest. Fallon had stayed within his view to hunt. They hadn't eaten in two days. Both would need strength for whatever was to come. If Walder Frey was planning to assassinate the King, then there would no doubt be an uproar when they interrupted those plans.

It took several tries, the stones were quite wet from the snow they'd been buried in. But the spark finally turned to flame in front of him and he fanned it gently to help it grow. He should have heard the footsteps behind him, perhaps he'd thought they were Fallon's. But as they grew closer he realize just how heavy they sounded as the snow crunched under them. Fallon's light feet hardly made a sound.

But as he turned, pulling his sword from his sheath, he found his throat met with an axe, held against his skin so tightly that he could feel it piercing through his flesh ever so slightly. It was a man who wielded it, a face he did not know nor the sigil he wore on his sleeve.

"Where is your friend, boy?" he said, his voice gruff and Garlan's eyes did not have to scan long before he set his sights on her.

Fallon was not far behind the brute, her steps slow and steady as she approached the man from his back. Garlan only knew one way to reply if he was going to keep the man from looking and so he smiled and dropped his sword at his side.

"Don't know," he said shrugging. "He said he'd be back before long. Went to try and get water from the Fork," he lied and the man looked beyond Garlan's head, in the direction of the river which allowed for Fallon to have precisely enough time to place her dagger against the brute's throat.

"Drop the Axe," she said harshly, pushing the blade against the man's weathered skin.

The man only smiled.

"You think I'm some sort of imbecile, boy?" he asked, lowering the axe from Garlan's throat. "You think I came out here without someone to watch my back."

"Yeah?" Fallon asked skeptically. "Then perhaps they're too coward to show themselves." She looked up and around the clearing with a careful eye. "Why don't you come on out and show yourself before I kill your friend here."

"Oh I wouldn't do that, boy," the man said with a chuckle, not seeing that it was a woman who held his life in her hands and Garlan looked around.

Suddenly, into the clearing stepped a dozen men. Some with bows, others holding axes without hunching due to the weight. These were strong men he noticed. Men who knew how to fight and Garlan thought, if he had to, he could perhaps disarm and possibly kill half. Fallon, at full strength could handle her own, much better if she had a spear. But so long as she was in her more weakened state, she would be at a disadvantage against these men.

"Call them off," she whispered. "Or I'll have your throat. I have no qualms with killing you this day. My quest is more important than your life."

As she leaned in to whisper her hair fell down over the man's shoulder and he looked up at her, careful to move only in a manner that would leave his throat unscaved. There was surprise in his eyes, Garlan noticed, only for a moment when he realized the gender of his attacker and his smile only widened.

"You see this, Beric!?" he shouted across the clearing at a man who stood, his arms crossed with one hand toying with the handle of his sword Garlan stood, taking his own sword in hand at the ready. "This woman threatens my life and I have half a mind to let her take it. I've always wanted to die by the hands of a beautiful woman."

He wasn't sure if it was the look in the man's eye or perhaps the leisure at which his men stood around, not one looking the least bit interested in staying Fallon's hand. Whatever the reason, Garlan felt suddenly, at ease. It was strange the way they all watched their friend sit helplessly at the knife of Fallon. The man he called Beric was nearly smirking as his hand moved away from his sword.

"I assure you, she will not hesitate," Garlan said then, his tone board as he lowered his sword, looking back at the man. "Not many men call My Lady, 'beautiful' and live to tell the tale."

"Garlan!" Fallon muttered through her teeth surprised by his joking manner. "What in Seven Hells do you think you're doing?!"

The man looked to Garlan, raising an eyebrow.

"The boy did say she was an earful, but he didn't say nothin' about that pretty face of hers," the man told him and Garlan smiled, wondering vaguely who the spoke of but did not have to wait much longer before the 'boy' stepped into the clearing.

"That's because she's my sister, Thoros," the figure said. "I know you too well to inform you to be on the look out for a pretty girl. Not that you can't handle yourself, Fal. I'd almost like to see what you'd do to him with a spear in your hands."

"Gendry?" Fallon said in disbelief, her eyes as wide as Garlan's as they turned to greet their long lost travelling companion.

"We've been on the look out for you two for days, we thought you'd be here sooner," Gendry replied and Garlan motioned to her to lower her knife. She did so reluctantly, keeping a careful eye on the brute named Thoros who stood to his feet with a cunning grin directed at her.

"Garlan got us in a bit of trouble near Barrowton," she said flatly in response to Gendry's worry. "If he'd have kept his hands off of the tavern owner's wife-"

"Yes, alright you've had your run at me," Garlan said and narrowed her eyes. "Yes it was my fault we were delayed. Though I would like to point out that sending out a hunting party for my head was a bit much on his part. I can assure you I wasn't the first man his woman had strayed with."

"You're disgusting," she said, rolling her eyes and he turned in order to hide his smile. "So, this is your band of brothers?" she asked, turning to Gendry.

"Brotherhood Without Banners is what we prefer, My Lady," the man called Beric replied.

Garlan recognized the man now, though his flesh was aged with scars and his eye covered with a patch. If he hadn't heard his name, he would not have recognized him on looks alone. He looked weary as he spoke, and Garlan wondered what had occurred to age a young man so quickly.

"Fallon," Gendry said, stepping between his sister and the man. "This is Beric Dondarrion."

"My Lord," she greeted, much to the man's surprise, not bothering to curtsey as she did had so many times before back at Winterfell. "I know your family," she said finally after looking at his features just as curiously as Garlan had moments prior. "I met several of your kinsmen whilst in the Stormlands."

"Then you know more of my home than I," he said and she furrowed her brow curiously. "I hardly remember that life, not since the war began," he told her cryptically as he looked away.

Garlan did not know what the man meant by it and he could tell by the quizzical expression on Fallon's face that she was just as confused by the man's statement. But neither had the patience to sit and wait. All Garlan knew of the man was the stories Gendry had told. They all seemed too fantastical to believe, the man who had defied death by the hands of some sorcerer. Only Fallon had seemed to take the story seriously. Gendry has sworn that he'd witnessed a resurrection, himself. Garlan had only laughed in reply.

"Where is Arya?" Fallon asked then.

Gendry recalled Fallon's fondness for the youngest Stark girl. Both had a desire for adventure and upon hearing that she was not being held captive at King's Landing, she'd been overjoyed. Gendry had explained that before he was captured and brought to Dragonstone by Melisandre, he was traveling with Arya and the Brotherhood. Only now the she-wolf seemed to be missing from sight.

"When Gendry was taken, the girl ran off," Thoros explained, re-sheathing his sword. "We searched all over the forest with no luck. I'd have thought you two might have seen her on your way south."

"Her grandfather is Lord Tully," Fallon interjected. "She could very well have travelled to Riverrun instead. I can only hope she doesn't seek refuge at Winterfell. I cannot be sure of it's safety until I hear word from my father."

"Drystan Magnar?" Thoros said with a chortle. "I reckon you'll be waiting quite a while, girl, seein as that father of yours is being hunted down as we speak. Deserting the Night's Watch is punishable by death."

"A death he'd gladly welcome if it meant the safety of his family," Fallon barked back and Garlan placed a hand on her shoulder which she promptly shook off.

When she looked up at him, Garlan could see the exhaustion in her eyes. The winter wind had left her cheeks pink and her lips chapped. Dark circles rested under her eyes and her tunic hung loosely off her withered frame. He couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. She'd be in no condition to continue to the twins if she didn't rest now.

"Fallon, you ought to sleep," he whispered.

"I cannot," she said, shaking her head.

"We agreed that you'd rest and we would continue on later."

"I have no desire to sleep. Not when the Northerners stand to face an attack tomorrow," she said impatiently. "We are a day's ride - if we ride quickly - and if Ramsay hasn't sent word to his father of my escape. I have not even a minute to spare."

"And what good are you to Robb like this?" Garlan argued with a frown, motioning to her frail body and she shook her head.

"I cannot stay, Garlan," was her whispered plea and he diverted his eyes, unable to withstand the look she was giving him now. Fallon Magnar's eyes were a weakness to every man who believed in her. With one look she could convince a man to do her bidding and he could not let her sway his decision now.

"Milady, if I may?" Thoros said, interrupting their very public argument and reaching out his hand to Fallon who looked at it skeptically. "Let us feed you and give you shelter, if only for a few hours before you continue on."

She seemed to consider it for many moments before taking her hand and placing it in his lightly. The man held it for just a moment before the look in his eyes changed, his eyes travelled over her nervously and then he let go, quickly. Garlan watched the exchange with some concern. Where Thoros was once full of laughter he now looked upon Fallon in fear.

"I'll have something to eat," she replied gratefully. "But every moment I waste futher, Ser, is a chance that I might not reach my King and his men in time. My brother's lives are at stake as well. I cannot chance their lives for my comfort."

It was decided then. Fallon would eat whatever this band of outlaws had to offer and then she'd be on her way. Garlan knew his body needed rest and that whatever obstacles they would face, he would need to have a cleared mind. So as Fallon ate, Garlan slept and he could only hope she'd not try and leave without him.

[-]

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen fog so thick. The air was heavy with a sheet of it that hung low over the field where they fought. The morning was still early, the sun barely shining over the treeline as he rode into battle. The winter winds were thick with the salt from the shore, the smell almost reminiscent of warmer days.

The battle had just begun, the enemy still unexpecting as they tore down the hilltops. Conall was as steady as his master, standing tall and riding hard across the cold, wet ground. Shouts were heard from the tops of the great keep but it would be too late before the fires were lit. The shouts would soon turn to screams and blood would be spilt.

And soon they siege would end.

And victory would be his.

And House Lannister would soon fall at its knees before the King in the North.

[Fallon]

It would be nightfall soon, she realized.

Already she regretted allowing the Brotherhood to slow her pace. It was only a handful of it's members who had followed her after she had insisted she leave the previous afternoon. With food in her belly, she had no other reason to stay, she'd told them. But once Garlan had caught her trying to leave camp, she knew she wouldn't be able to escape him in addition to the men he'd recruited to find them safe passage through the forest to the Twins.

Thoros was among them, the brute who had very nearly been on the wrong side of her dagger. Ever since she'd shook his hand she felt as though he looked at her strangely. He watched her with an eerie look in his eye that gave her an unsettled feeling her in bones.

She heard the crack of a snapped twig behind her and she turned to see him emerging from the woods. He stood next to her as she looked down on the Twins from her place on the small hill. Robb's men were already setting up camp which meant she was too late to warn him before he entered the castle. No doubt they would be in the great keep, Robb ready to wed his new bride.

She had tried not to think of it, the way it made her feel to realize that Robb would soon be a married man, a new queen by his side. No longer was she worried about stopping it. Perhaps she would have been had his life been at risk, but now she was too late. So long as Robb lived, she did not care if he was married to Roslyn Frey. She just wanted his life spared.

"You risk much, for your King," Thoros whispered and but she did not move her gaze from the camp below.

"Yes," she replied.

"But perhaps you do not know all that you risk, however?" he suggested and she furrowed his brow, turning towards him curiously.

"My life is not worth his death," she said sternly. "He is needed by many."

"That very well may be, Milady. But it is not your life I speak of," he explained but she did not understand. "Perhaps you think your life is worth sacrificing for your King. But if you ride into Lord Frey's keep, you will risk more than one life."

"Garlan refuses to stay behind," she said with a sigh.

"No, not the Tyrell boy," he explained, looking back towards the camp that was some ways in the distance. "Milady you surely know the dangers that you bring upon yourself. I do not seek to try and sway you from risking your own life, but perhaps you would do so for that of a child."

"A child?" she asked, confused. "Of what child do you speak? There is no child among us."

"Yes, I am afraid there is," he whispered and diverted his eyes from hers, down until they rested on the lower half of her tunic and she frowned.

"I do not understand," she said quickly. "Whose child is at risk?!"

"Your own," he said simply.

She felt then as if all the air had left her lungs as she realized what he meant. Her hand moved slowly over her stomach, down further until it rested below her belt, the place where soft and malleable flesh had hardened without her notice. How long had it been since she bled - she wondered?

"Surely not," she said then, breathless as she shook her head.

"I saw it when I first held your hand in mine, the vision of a boy with auburn curls, his eyes as green as yours," he recounted, placing his hand over hers.

She saw it then too, the boy Thoros spoke of and she nearly cried out at the ache she felt in her heart then. He was Robb's son, so perfectly like him in every way but his eyes. He reached up for his father's hand, Robb who knelt by his son's side, tying a cloak over the boys shoulders.

Soon the boy was older, chasing after Fallon as they both laughed, his crooked smile so similar to that of Rowan's mischievous smirks. And as his curls bounced she couldn't help but wonder if this was how Robb looked as a child, happy and free from responsibility. But as soon as she thought of him, she pushed those images from her mind. She pulled her hand out of Thoros' and back to her side.

"No," she said. "You show me lies."

"I show you what will come to pass. I do not choose these images. The Lord of Light sometimes grants me glimpses of what lies ahead. But what I see is not certain. If you go into Walder Frey's keep tonight, you deprive that boy's father of a son."

"And if I do not go," she said stubbornly. "Then I deprive this boy of his father."

It was Thoros then whose eyes widened, realization washing over him as she spoke. To him, Robb's face was only a face. He would not recognize him as the King in the North, as the Stark who was ravaging the Westerlands. He had not memorized Robb's features as Fallon had. She had memorized all of him. Every mark every flaw, every way his mouth moved when he smiled or frowned.

She could not risk his life based on superstition of a red priest.

"I will not let you go," another voice said then and she saw that they were no longer alone.

There, Garlan stood, his eyes wide in horror as Thoros spoke of an unborn child, Robb Stark's child. His eyes too rested on belly where she had forgotten her hand was still pressed gently over the space where Thoros said rested her son.

He hurried towards her grabbing hold of her arm as if he intended to drag her back towards the camp, to abandon her mission altogether. He was stronger than her, well rested and healthier than the girl who had spent so long starving in captivity. She could not pull herself from his grasp. So she then did the only thing she could do, pulled her knife and placed it to his throat.

It was an act of desperation, one that caused their eyes to connect so that both could see the fire in the others. Garlan's told of his worry of his concern while Fallon's defied his. She would not be swayed.

"Take your hands from my person, Garlan," she said slowly but his hard grasp around her upper arm did not falter. "I will not desist my mission based on superstition," she hissed and Garlan's frown only deepened.

"There is too much at stake, Fallon. This time it is too much," he whispered, his breath hot on her face and for the first time she realized that he was not simply holding her by the arm, but his opposite arm was pulling her towards him.

"You have followed me through the fire, through near death across this land and it is now that we are nearly out of harms way that you would doubt me?" she said and he shook his head.

"You do not even know what you ask of me!" he replied angrily.

It was this side of Garlan that she had never seen prior to this moment. Her friend was no longer teasing or testing her, smirking from behind his facade of seriousness. This Garlan had no facade. His anger was real, his concern for her - real. Both of their breaths were heavy as neither backed down. His grip tightened as she pressed the knife harder to his neck.

"I only ask that you let me go," she said as calmly as she could muster. "I did not come all this way to watch him die."

"And what of you? Hm? What of your life?!" he growled. "You are so eager to throw yours away for Stark but do you think he would be so eager to watch you die? Do you think that I wish to watch you die?"

His hands, despite their deathlike grip, were shaking. She did not know if it was fury that drove his body to shake or if it was fear. She lowered her knife then, placing her hand against his cheek and she shook her head, feeling something begin to swell in her throat as he held her there. And she told herself that now was not the time to doubt. She would not let his fear become her own.

"The longer you stand here, trying to convince me - the more imminent the danger becomes," she said, taking a deep breath. "Come with me this last time. If you are so worried about my life then stand by my side to ensure my safety. But if you will not, then I will continue alone."

His eyes searched hers, as if he could look for an alternative to what she was asking but he would find none. She had made up her mind, regardless of what either man said to her from here forward. And when Garlan finally realized that, she felt his grip loosen and his anger turn to dejection and helplessness.

"There is nothing I can do to convince you to stay?" he asked her and she shook her head. He let her go then, sighing as he dropped her arm. "Then let us go," he replied. "Let us save our King."

-o-

The horses' trotted through the snow's slosh, the mud turning the white ice into brown muck that littered the path towards the large gate. The gate stood open, six guards on either side as they laughed and drank from their goblets. The festivities had begun, Fallon realized as she approached, the music could be heard from the keep as it seeped out into the open air.

Garlan sat on her left as they approached atop their wagon, the guards grabbing hold of their horses as they slowed to a halt on the bridge that stood right before the gate's entrance. The guards eyed them curiously. Glancing over Garlan's plain clothes that were hardly suitable for a peasant. Then they looked to Fallon as the guards searched their wagon load, finding an assortment of meats and cheeses they'd stolen from a drunken merchant headed towards White Harbor.

Fallon did not recognize the men's faces, which was relieving and worrying all at the same time. She had been to the Twins some months earlier, dressed much differently but still she would have been spotted had these men been the ones she'd known previously to guard the castle's gates.

"The feast began nearly an hour ago, you expect us to pay for your lot of rubbish?" one of the guards spat, stuffing one of the bricks of cheese under his cloak and she glared.

"My wife and I travelled a great deal for this wedding. Lord Frey's steward promised us thirty silver Stags for this lot," Garlan said, depicting his best peasant accent.

"And what good is it to do our lord master at this hour?" the man hissed and Fallon began to grow impatient.

She leaned over, allowing the bodice of her loose-fitting gown to hang low so the man had sight of her bosom. His wandering eyes fell for her distraction as she pretended not to notice and beckoned him closer with her finger and a warm grin. The man did step closer, his eyes focused hungrily on what he could see of her breasts.

"Surely your Lord Frey is a generous host," she said, mimicking the harder accents she'd heard all her life from those in the Northmost part of Skagos. "No doubt he'd find good use for our fine cargo. Mayhaps his spoils will be shared among his loyal men, no?" The man's eyes locked back on hers.

"I do think our Lord Frey will be having good reason to extend his celebration further," the man said with a chuckle. The other guards laughed as well and a sickening chill rose up her spine as they did so, knowing very well what celebration they were referring to.

The death of the King in the North.

"Bring it on in," the larger of the men said, motioning to the others to move aside. "Taf, find Vaxil and tell him these two are here for their coin. But tell them they were late and won't be needing the full amount."

"Here now! We were promised thirty Stags and it'll be thirty Stags we'll be takin'!" Garlan shouted and Fallon frowned, pulling him down from his staged outrage, back to his seat upon the wagon.

"Come now love, we were late - after all," she said, her eyes widening in a way to tell him to stop trying to delay their venture.

He took the hint, sitting back in his place and pulling on the reins to their horses, entering through the gate with ease. They followed the guard as he led them into the courtyard near other wagons full of goods being emptied. The merriment was in full swing among the guards and servants as they laughed and bit down on large turkey legs, standing near the entrance to the keep.

Fallon's eyes were immediately on the crowds within the hall, the dancing and the laughter that ensued. She could not spot the figure she searched for from so far away and knew she'd need to get closer if she wanted to find him. There were several guards near the entrance and there would be no way to enter the hall, dressed as she was, without a scene being made.

She pulled a satchel from the back of the wagon, handing Garlan his dagger under the concealment of their cloaks. He gave her a look of warning as a guard passed and the two stood there, looking as if they were embracing for several moments until the man passed, laughing to himself in a drunken stupor. Fallon then placed her own dagger on her belt and a second in her boot.

In spite of Garlan's instruction that she stay at his side, she walked over towards a more secluded area in the shadows where she carried a basket of meats to go into the hall, hoping she could get a better view of the hall, and perhaps Robb. It was then that she heard a faint cry that caused her to turn her head in the direction of a holding stable nearby. The cry grew louder and soon she recognized the frustrated grunts of Grey Wind, who paced in the small stall. In the stall one over, she noticed a rather fat pig and a sickly goat that became anxious with all of Grey's barks.

"Careful there, girl," one of the peasants said passing by. "That there is a direwolf. The beast'll tear that arm off if you aren't careful."

"A direwolf?" she said in mock ignorance. "What in Seven Hells is a direwolf doin' this south of the wall?"

"He's belongin' to the King in the North - that Stark boy who be weddin' Lord Frey's daughter not an hour ago," the man said, his grin exposing his teeth which were full of missing spots. The ones she could see were blackened by poor health.

"The King in the North is the reason for all this?" she asked then and he nodded.

"Better get your glimpse in while you can, not sure how much longer you'll have a chance to see him," he chuckled, walking in the opposite direction of the shadows where they'd been concealed.

Panic began to rise within her as she looked back at Grey who seemed to be pleading with her desperately. She didn't understand why he was locked up and not in the hall with Robb. Nor did she understand why he was currently pulling on the hem of her ragged skirts as she stepped towards the hall. She lost her balance a few times due to the strength of his pulls, falling down onto the snow covered ground. Garlan was soon at her side, and as he reached down to help her up, Grey barked furiously.

"What's gotten into Stark's beast?" he asked, pulling his hands from her to appease the wolf who then calmed slightly as Fallon stood to her feet.

"He senses the danger," she whispered. "But why are you not with Robb?" she said, questioning Grey who was rounding her nervously, as if he was trying to herd her away from what danger was before them.

"Something is happening," Garlan said quickly. "The guards have closed the gates and lifted the drawbridge."

She looked on towards the hall where she could see the guards talking cryptically in whispers. One man nodded to the other and he put down his ale and grabbed hold of the sword at his belt.

"We have to move now," she said quickly, her heart racing. "It is happening."

"Fallon there are too many guards," Garlan warned, taking hold of her arm again, causing the wolf to growl at his action. "I mean her no harm wolf!" he growled back and Grey seemed to take note of Garlan's tone, and his ears fell back as he nudged Fallon's arm desperately.

"We have Grey. And if we hurry we can take them before it's too late. We cannot let them close those doors," she said.

"Do you have a plan?" he asked her and she shook her head.

"We don't have time for plans, Garlan," she said, irritable with her friend who seemed to be wasting time. He shrugged then, taking in a deep breath.

"Well, none of our plans have worked thus far. Would be a shame to deviate from what we do best," he said so casually she almost didn't see the fear in his eyes.

"Which would be?" she asked, trying to calm her own nerves.

"We work well under pressure," he replied .She nodded then as he squeezed her hand.

When their eyes locked in that moment the weight of what was going to happen washed over her all at once. She knew very well that her pounding heart and shaking hands were telling her that whatever they faced in there would end in bloodshed. Garlan's golden eyes were bright in the light of the torch that passed by with the guard who didn't seem to notice or care that they were there, not realizing their intentions in the next few moments. She ignored Grey's pleas as she held Garlan's hand in hers, both fearing what would ensue once they let go.

Would this be the last time they looked upon each other, she wondered. This man who was so dear to her, so very much part of her family now. They had tempted fate too many times now, cheated death when it was so very close to taking both of them into it's clutches. Perhaps now their luck had run out. Perhaps now would be the last time they would hold one another's gaze.

"Thank you," she whispered then, the only words that she could muster and nothing more was needed as he nodded, leaning down over her and placing his lips on her forehead. It was the last thing she felt of him as they then broke away, both taking in one last deep breath as they walked across the courtyard.

Out of the shadows - and into the furnace.

[-]

Chaos had ensued before anyone knew what was happening.

There was a breathlessness in the hall as the men realized they had entered a trap. Perhaps they had realized there would be a conflict, but they had not anticipated this. They had not anticipated so much deception - so much bloodshed.

It had all happened so fast he didn't' realize what was happening until he saw the dark smile on Walder Frey's withered face. He looked down at the woman at his side, the girl who was now his wife. Had she known, he wondered? Did she reveal his plot and lure him into this trap as well? By the look on her horrified features, he decided that she did not. He had taken a risk enlisting her help and now it seemed that her life was a risk he had not anticipated.

The Greatjon was at his side before he could react, everything around him moving as if blurred in his mind as he took it all in. His men starting falling to the ground, one by one, Frey's above them, running their swords through their stomachs.

Death.

It was happening too quickly, the thought. He should draw his sword, he told himself. Draw your sword, his mind shouted but his hands stood still.

It was not supposed to unfold this way, he kept thinking. It had been part of the plan that he come here, that he wed Roslyn Frey and that all the while all of Frey's sons would be taken to Harrenhal where they'd be kept out of the way. He was meant to capture this fortress, deal with Lord Frey - to keep him from running to Lord Tywin with any more of his information.

But he had failed.

"How does it feel, King in the North?!" Lord Frey shouted over the chaos. "How does it feel to watch such betrayal?" Frey didn't allow him answer before he continued. "You thought you could kill my son, withdraw our agreement. Well my boy. You were sorely mistaken. Take a look around, watch everything you built crumble before you."

The man was oddly calm as he looked down from his spot at the table. He smiled as he sipped from his goblet and ate his food as if there wasn't fighting going on all around him. He would have thought the old man was bored had he not looked so damn pleased with himself.

"Stop this!" Catelyn was shouting. "Stop this madness!"

"Say goodbye to your son, Lady Stark," Frey cackled.

Catelyn then looked towards him and he caught her desperate eyes. She started towards him but he did not see how far she came before he felt something strike him from behind, an arrow piercing through his back, and another digging into his shoulder as he fell forward.

"Father no!" Roslyn shouted but the man only laughed louder.

There were screams all around him as he struggled to his feet. He pulled his sword from its sheath, looking around for throat to slit as he pulled Roslyn away from the fighting. He looked down at her tear-filled eyes.

"Run," he whispered and she shook her head. "Go now. Run."

She wanted to hesitate, he could see it in her eyes but she also was young - too young to die. And she knew that as well. So it was with one more longing glance that she looked back at him before he saw her run off towards the corner where she moved a tapestry aside and fled through a door that didn't seem to be there before.

His attention was focused now back on the fighting but there were too many, he realized and the pain in his flesh only grew more excruciating with every step he took. He looked down where he saw a bloody arrow tip protruding from his chest, the shortness of the bow indicating that it was fired from a crossbow.

He looked above him to see the Frey men, the men parading as musicians who now played crossbows, aiming them at men below, men who he'd fought next to for months. They now fell down, their eyes cold as they bled out. He wanted to fight, he kept telling himself. But something stopped him, something slowed his movements, clouded the sounds around him so that it all seemed so very much like a dream.

Catelyn's shouts were muddled as the Greatjon kept her from several blows in her direction, taking down several Frey men with an arrow through his left arm. Cley Cerwyn was nearby as well, his leg wounded and his hand covered in blood as he fought on.

In the distance, somewhere he could hear a loud pounding, shouts and torches that then flood through the doors at the front. But a man running at him blocked his view and he held up his sword to block the knife that came at him. He was numb to the pain then as something else, something more primal took over and he landed his weapon into the man's chest where it belonged and watched him fall to the floor.

"ROBB!" he heard then and didn't think to look for several moments until he heard it again. The higher pitched shout that sounded so familiar to him.

He started to turn, to answer the call that he'd heard only to find a figure before him. It was Bolton's son, Ramsay who stood at this side and at first he thought nothing of it. It wasn't until he saw the bastards sly smile that he gripped his sword a little harder, raising it as the boy placed his hand on the shoulder that was pierced with an arrow and he cringed.

"My father couldn't be here, King in the North," he whispered in his ear, his smile growing. "But he sends his regards."

It happened quickly then, the action so fast and the knife so sharp that he hardly felt it go through his chest. He gasped for air, feeling Ramsay twisting the knife into his chest and then pulling it out. As he fell to his knees he heard several shouts, several screams of horror, one in particular that belonged to Catelyn Stark.

"NO!" the other, more familiar shout screamed, the bloodcurdling cry that caused chills to appear on his flesh. Perhaps if he could feel anything aside from the coldness running through his veins, he might have notices the small bumps of gooseflesh on his arm in result.

It was this voice that caused him to turn, it's proximity so close that he looked up as he fell to his back and he saw something flash quickly over his body. It was so fast, a blur in front of his emerald eyes and he wasn't sure if it was the wolf that was currently ripping out Ramsay's throat or the spear that was being shoved through the bastard's body. Whatever it was, it was the cause for the body that fell next to him, lifeless as Grey ripped into it.

But the face he saw next, caused him to gasp with what little breath he seemed to have left. Surely he was dreaming he thought, surely this image was the last he would have on this earth as the gods pulled his soul from this body. Had they sent her, he wondered? He could feel her warm hands, see the vibrant green of her eyes and the blackness of her coal-like hair.

"Fallon?" he struggled to say, the taste of iron causing him to cringe as blood filled his mouth.

But she didn't speak only looked down at him with her eyes wide and her head shaking as realization crept over her. Tears filled her eyes as she grasped onto his tunic, pulling him up with all of her strength as she spoke but he could not seem to hear her words. She looked only at him though Grey Wind stood in close proximity, warding off those who tried to attack her. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it would be okay, that they'd be together soon.

"No," he finally heard. "No this can't happen," she said, tears falling from her eyes as she looked over her shoulder. "Help him! Someone help him damnit!" she shouted and she pulled harder at him. He realized then that she was trying to lift him. Her small frame was more frail than he remembered and he tried to recall if she had always had those small scars on her face or the dark circles under her eyes. "Don't you dare die, do you hear me?!"

Someone finally helped her lift him so she was holding him against her chest, crying into the crook of his shoulder. He wanted to holder her, he realized, but he could not move his arms. Both arms were limp by his side as she wept against him, calling again and again for help but only more men stood around her, looking down at him as if all hope was lost.

It felt like it, he thought. If she was here, then certainly it was too late.

He looked back at her one last time before things started to fade, darkness taking over everything around him and he no longer felt himself shivering. All he felt was numbness as the darkness took him. The last thing he heard was her saying his name, again and again until there was nothing. And he succumbed to the unknown.

And he welcomed it. Because soon he would be with her.

[Garlan]

Grief.

All he could hear in her cries as they rode was her grief, her broken heart that was ripped open. He held her tightly, trying to keep her steady on the horse but trying to push the heartbreaking cries from his mind. Each sob ripped at his own heart, each gut wrenching shout of the man's name off her lips.

He wanted to keep it together, to forget the carnage they had just witnessed, to forget the number of men that had been lost to the attack, taken unaware by Frey men who now lay dead in pools of their own blood. But Fallon did not care about those men as much as she cared about the one draped over the Greatjon's horse.

Grey Wind ran at full speed in front of their horses. He ran ahead where Garlan could now see the light of a fire between the branches and knew they were only moments away from reaching their destination.

He slowed his horse to a trot, holding his arm up to signal the others who rode behind him. Twelve men halted their horses. Twelve men, that was all that was left of the guard, of the men who had followed orders and gone to the Twins, only to watch their brothers-in-arms brought down before their eyes. Each of them had fought, most of them were wounded. The Greatjon still had an arrow sticking out of his arm as he rode but showed no indication that he was in pain aside from the cargo he carried.

When the reached the camp, Garlan could see five of the Brotherhood standing at the edge of it, weapons in hand as they watched the approaching riders. It wasn't until he called out the Gendry, who stood with a sword in his hand that they realized it was Garlan. He ran to meet them as Garlan slowed to a halt, dismounting quickly and pulling Fallon down by his side and allowing Gendry to take hold of her.

"Where is he?" she was asking through her tears, searching the camp with her eyes and Gendry's brow furrowed as he looked over her, looking for injuries. But he would find none. Only her heart was broken and only that was visible by the aching in her voice. "Where?!" she said again, shouting. "THOROS!"

"Fallon no, do not do this," Garlan warned her and she shoved him away from her.

"THOROS!" she shouted again and Garlan knew she would not be stopped.

It was only a few short moments before the brute they'd met only a few days prior was now emerging from the forest, onto the path where they stood. He was looking around them curiously, looking at Fallon's broken form and then to Garlan with questioning eyes.

"Please!" she begged him, pulling the man's tunic in desperation. "Please you must heal him."

"Fallon," Garlan tried to warn.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" she screamed at him, her eyes still on Thoros as the man pulled her wrists so she was no longer grasping at him.

"What is you want girl?" he asked her calmly. "Who is injured?"

"We are all injured," Garlan said but Fallon rushed passed him towards the horse where the Greatjon stood and she grabbed the lifeless hand that hung over the horse's back.

"Please, Thoros. Please heal him," she begged again, this time in a whisper and Thoros took in a deep breath, sighing as he realized what she was asking of him and he started to shake his head.

"I am afraid I cannot do that, Milady," he said gravely and Garlan knew it was a mistake, watching as Fallon's eyes turned wild, wide and savage as she fell to her knees in front of him.

"Heal him! Bring him back!" she shouted. "I know you can do it. I've seen you do it!"

"You do not know what you ask, girl," he warned her, his tone dark. "I cannot bring that boy back without consequence."

"Fuck the consequences!" she shouted. "Do it! This is not his time."

"Who are we to say when it is his time? The Lord of Light-" as he spoke he was interrupted by Fallon's hand around his throat.

"Don't preach to me, priest. Do what you must but give him back to me, please!" she yelled and Thoros looked at the lifeless body now in the Greatjon's arms.

"There is a balance. If I bring him back, there must be a sacrifice."

"Take my life, I do not care. Just bring him back," she said quickly and Garlan stepped towards her.

"No," he said sternly and she shot back a look of disdain in his direction.

"Don't you dare stop me," she hissed and Garlan clenched his teeth, wrenching her from the ground and pulling her into his arms.

"You will not die for him, I will not let you, he would not let you!" he shouted, holding her thrashing form and she slapped him hard across the face, shoving off of him so she went stumbling back towards the body that the Greatjon placed on the ground.

"Fallon, do not do this," was Catelyn's tired plea now. Fallon only looked back at the woman for one last moment before diverting her eyes back to Thoros.

"Take your sacrifice, priest. I am willing," she said quietly, placing her shaking hands on the corpse lying in the snow.

Thoros looked up at Garlan who was ready to stop her should he agree. But once he nodded to him, Garlan felt arms wrap around either of his shoulders, pulling him back as he knelt next to the body, pulling Fallon's hands into his.

"No!" Garlan shouted, struggling to release himself from the hold of the brutes on either side of him.

Neither Fallon nor Thoros looked back at him, the latter of the two calling out for a nearby torch. It was Beric who held it over the two of them as Thoros began to speak in whispers, words that were foreign to Garlan. Fallon was shaking, looking down at the cold figure in the snow and Garlan could see her tears falling over him.

Suddenly the fire grew, the torch becoming wild above their heads and in the light of it he could see Fallon's swollen eyes. She did not show fear as she looked into the light, only complete willingness for what she thought was to come. The longer she stared into the flame the more Garlan tried to fight back but he was not strong enough, his injuries limiting his abilities.

Suddenly the red priest's whispers were silenced and only Fallon's screams were heard as something shot through her, something that caused her to lose her grief and fury and turn herself over to the savagery that ripped through her.

"Fallon!" he shouted shoving the men off of him as best as he could, running after her only to be tackled to the ground before he could reach her as she keeled over, holding herself with both arms as she writhed in pain over the dead body beneath her.

The flame erupted once more before it was extinguished all together and only darkness filled the forest. Garlan could not see even a foot in front of him. Only the sounds of the restless horses behind him could be heard. A long moment passed and then another and he waited helplessly, hoping the man's magic hadn't worked. But he didn't hear her screams any longer.

Only silence.

He gave up trying to fight then, let the men hold his limp body as he lie there in the snow, useless and devastated. He'd let her do it, he thought. He was to blame for this.

And then there was a sound. It was a sound that Garlan could only describe as haunting, like a gasp for air that could only be had by someone who had already had life stripped from them. And now as the air entered the body's lungs, it was being forced back into him. The man gasped and panted and Garlan felt, with every breath the man took, his heart being ripped from his chest as realization crept over him.

It had worked.

"Seven hells," was the Greatjon's whisper and Garlan could hear many of them gasping as the light of the flame returned slowly.

The figure moved, only slightly at first as he tried to catch the breath that had be stolen from him. And then he rolled onto his side, coughing into the snow. Garlan couldn't bare to look, didn't want to see what Fallon's death had been sacrificed for. But it was a cry that caused his head to look up from it's place in the snow, and then a sob, followed by another and his eyes snapped to the figure where Fallon sat up, struggling as she grabbed onto the figure with what little strength she could.

"Fallon?" the figure whispered, his throat hoarse and his voice scratchy.

Garlan was not sure what he was not witnessing, Fallon's screams and cries had not ended in her death as she held the man in her arms, crying heavier than before. He looked around and no one had fallen where they once stood. Everyone was accounted for, everyone was looking down at the pair in either horror or amazement. And finally Fallon cried out to the man she held onto for dear life. Her voice was staggered, strained even as his name escaped her lips.

"Rowan."

A/N: If I have confused anyone, I apologize, I was trying to be cryptic up until the end. If I didn't do a good enough job of that, then please let me clarify. Rowan died at the Red Wedding, not Robb. I know everyone was calling him Robb - that's part of the story. I'll clarify in the next chapter. Let me know if you have any questions about the drama that just went down. I will be answering a lot more in the next chapter. xoLola