They Call Him The Young Wolf ⚔ Robb Stark

|| Chapter 7 ||

A/N: Prepare yourself for the waterworks, this chapter is emotional.

Dear King Robb Stark,

I am writing this letter to you inform you of my absence.

I am well alright, and I need no more of your assistance as I have my family, the Lannisters, to take care of me now.

I hope you understand.

We had an amazing time, we did, but you need to be with your true lover and not with someone who you barely knew.

I'm not coming back.

Do not come for me.

~ Elizabeth Furrow

Robb's teeth clenched as he read the letter, a small sensation of sadness coming over him. He read every word as if he wasn't ready to believe her departure. He had wanted her, and he had wanted her badly, more than anyone else in the world.

Robb took the letter and chucked it in the blazing fire that was lit in the large fireplace behind him. His eyes welled up slightly as he thought of the words again. His fists balled up and his hands began shaking out of sheer panic and anger.

"My King," Talisa whispered, gripping his shoulders tightly. "What seems to burden you?"

"It's nothing," he exhales sharply.

"Robb—," she starts.

"Your Grace," he corrects her, reserving his name for his family and Elizabeth, "You're my wife, not my mother, you can't call me by my birth name."

"Huh," she sarcastically sighs, "I love you, Robb Stark, or have you forgotten that?"

"I've forgotten a lot of things," he responds, bluntly. "Leave."

As this took place in Winterfell, Elizabeth was sword fighting with her brother, Jaime, in the royal courtyard of Kings-Landing. Her body grew stronger since she had been back. Not only did the scar on her cheek and shoulder remind her of the gruesome battle back in the North, but also of Robb himself.

The letter she'd sent to him was written by her father against her will, and to stop Robb Stark from ever coming to Lannisport or Kings-Landing to take her back. However, she was still married to him, and the wedding vows were still in place, so she didn't understand why they took her back.

"I'll always be better," Jaime laughed as he swiftly placed the sword against her stomach.

"Whatever," she mumbled, moving the sword downwards with the back of her hand.

"You're such a sore loser," he chuckles as he lifts her up.

"Not as sore as this," she kicks his leg and makes a dash into the castle. She laughs as she hears him run after her, but she has other plans. She runs towards the edge of the castle walls, jumping out a window and rolling onto the forest ground.

"Elizabeth!," Jaime yells after her.

"I may be a sore loser, but at least I'm not old!," she calls back, laughing.

Jaime sprints faster, jumping at the last moment and grabbing her foot before both of them fall down. She laughs with her brother, taking some dirt and mushing it in his face.

"Fuck you!," he whimpers in disgust, taking the mud off his face.

"Love you too, brother," she hugs his head.

"You know," he starts, sitting in front of her, "when you were born, you looked like a pink piglet, I remember. It was Cersei and I's twentieth name day when you were born, and we absolutely adored you, even if father didn't."