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FREYA had woken up late the next morning, for she had been incredibly tired from battle.
They set up camp near the Riverlands, and she had never felt so cozy in her cot than the night prior. Freya dressed herself when she woke, since Selene's cot was already opened and empty. She pushed the flap to her tent open and was welcomed by a handful of soldiers bowing and wishing her a good morning. She smiled to all.
When she walked out into the foggy air, she noticed her brother and Selene up ahead. Her handmaiden's face was buried into Theon's chest as she cried loudly. Freya halted her movements and felt a shift in the air. Theon turned to look her, and it was then that she knew something very bad had happened.
Ned Stark was dead.
When Theon told his sister of the news, he was surprised to see the tears violently flood her lids. He knew his sister wasn't one to cry very often, but he could do nothing but hold her tightly as she sobbed. Selene patted her lady's back and Theon continuously tightened his arms around her as a reminder that he'd always be there. Theon sniffled as he held her. "We need to make sure our family lasts forever," he whispered to her. "I'm always with you, Freya."
Her eyes watered more at her brother's words. She leaned back, holding onto his face and smiled softly. "You will be my brother, always." She replied, hugging him tightly again.
None dared to speak to Robb or Lady Catelyn, with the exception of Theon and Freya. When all their tears had shed, the siblings visited Robb's tent. He was sulking in his chair, watching the flame onto of a candle flicker in front of him. Freya watched from behind her brother.
"Sorry for your loss, my Lord." Theon muttered. "Ned was ... like a father to us."
Robb said nothing. His eyes didn't even waver.
Theon knew nothing more could be said. He nodded his head and quickly left the tent, but Freya's feet were glued in her spot. Her mouth hung open, as if she wanted to say something, though no words would emerge. Robb's eyes slowly lifted to her own.
"Theon didn't want to say it, in fear of the memories," she said softly, clasping her hands together, "but we understand. We know how heartbreaking it is to lose a family member."
Robb didn't reply. He rubbed his finger along the top of his mouth.
Freya sighed. "I know you don't wish to speak to anyone – especially, me, for that matter. You should, though. It will help you."
Robb hesitated for more than a minute. He said, in his lowest voice, "I talked to my mother. I don't need to speak with anyone else."
Freya frowned, but nodded her head nonetheless.
"And don't spew shit like you understand," he spat. "We are two very different situations. My father did not die because he decided to run into a rebellion he wasn't prepared for."
Freya's mouth opened in shock. She knitted her brows together. "Are you turning my condolences into an argument?"
"I didn't need condolences in the first place."
"Why are you being such a twat?" She scoffed, holding her hands out. "I was trying to be nice, and like always, you have to make it into a fight. I thought we were growing past our indifferences when you chose me to lead the Battle at Green Fork."
Robb looked back at the candle. "That was Lord Umber's decision, not mine."
Freya stomped her feet heavily into the ground. "Fuck you, Stark." She turned and grasped the edge of the tent. She looked back at him, and noticed he was staring at her. "We will sort this out after you stop being a whiny, little boy."
•••
She felt as if her insides were crumbling. Ned Stark's death was a shock to them all, and it was only a matter of time until Sansa and Arya got the same treatment. Freya hoped it never came to that.
Selene brushed her lady's hair that afternoon, tearing the knots out and making it smooth again. She then grabbed their basin and filled it with lake water, warming it slightly with the heat of a candle. Small, heaven-scented candles were scattered along the inside of Freya's tent, and the two basked in the warmth that the outside could not give them. Selene stripped her lady bare and allowed her to sit in the tub.
She ran her fingers through Freya's hair, scrubbing away the dirt within the strands. "I heard shouts coming from Robb's tent this morning." She said, ending the silence. "Did you talk with him?"
"I went to send my condolences," Freya seethed. Her nostrils flared in anger at the memory. "The little shit can't take a compliment even if he tried."
Selene laughed softly. "Someday, you two will get along."
"I thought we were, that's the problem." She washed water onto the tops of her arms. "I thought that we had put everything in the past when he asked me to lead Green Fork's battle. I guess I was wrong, and I'm never wrong."
"You can be wrong sometimes," she shrugged.
Freya turned, narrowing her eyes at the handmaiden before beginning to share a laugh with her. She leaned back into the basin of water, allowing Selene to splash water in her soapy hair. "You and my brother looked fairly close this morning," Freya muttered. "I didn't realize you two were acquaintances."
Selene swallowed down a lump in her throat. During last night, when her lady was asleep, Selene had snuck into Theon's tent once again and spent a night with him. They thought of it as a congratulatory meeting after their big victory. Theon filled her with pleasure at each touch, and she had never been more happy to be in such a foul place with the man she secretly adored.
She had been taking too long to answer, causing Freya to turn again. "Did I say something wrong?"
Selene blinked a few times. "Oh – oh, no, m'lady. I was just thinking."
"Are you ..." Freya paused, staring at a candle in the corner of her tent. She tapped her fingers on the side of the basin. "Are you and my brother together?"
Selene found it easy to release a false laugh. "Of course not, m'lady! What would give you such an idea?"
"Theories."
Selene chose not to continue the conversation, and thus ran her hands through Freya's wet strands of hair. The dirt was almost out, and Selene had to use her nails to pluck out a few pieces. Freya then sighed, and Selene thought she saw a few tears prick at her lids. "I'm not trying to excuse you of anything. I'm sorry." She wiped at her eyes. "If the death of Ned Stark is possible, then anything can be."
Freya stared into the flames licking at the edges of a candle, watching the wax drip down. As if she was transported into the mechanisms of her own mind, the candle morphed into a new place. This place was dimly lit, housing a loud crowd, but as Freya drifted off, it became quiet. Liquid crimson gathered on the floor. Wolves lay as corpses on the ground.
The last thing Freya saw when she was lifted from her trance was Robb Stark's bloodied body.
