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LORD Frey sat at the highest table, with his young wife, daughter, and Edmure sitting beside him. A band played loudly through their ears, but it was a hearty rhythm that everyone enjoyed. Catelyn laughed along with the Blackfish and Roose Bolton. Freya sipped her wine beside her husband, who was laughing at the sight of Edmure with his new wife, Roslin Frey.
Freya watched a few women do a jig before her eyes rested on Lord Bolton. A servant tried to pour wine in his goblet, but he put his hand over it, refusing the drink. She lofted her brow, finding the occurrence odd.
Robb sighed, following his wife's eyes. "My mother's alone with Roose Bolton." He observed. "I should rescue her."
"She's fine," Freya sneered, watching the elders. "I would bet that they're discussing torturing strategies right at this very moment."
He rolled his eyes. "Be kind, Freya. She's finally starting to like you."
Freya wanted to laugh. "I beg to differ, kind Ser. If she had her way, I know she'd send me back to the Iron Islands for what my idiot brother did to Winterfell – despite that now no one seems to know where he is. And you, Stark – you would be sitting over there, eating blackberries out of Roslin Frey's small hand."
"Perhaps I've made a terrible mistake then," Robb smirked.
Freya's mouth fell open. She scoffed, "Perhaps you'd like to lose a hand!" She chuckled, thrusting her hand forward to hit him.
He caught her hand in his tough grasp, a grin still engulfing his face. His whole body tingled at their touch. "Striking your King is an act of treason," he reminded.
Freya furrowed her brow. "Manhandling your Queen should be one as well."
Robb liked to see the fire in her light eyes. He leaned forward, pressing a light kiss on her lips. Freya caressed her hand over the scruff on his cheek, practically feeling Walder Frey's eyes on them. They moved back, grinning towards each other in a devilish way that almost made them lick their chops. Freya was definitely more sexually-inclined than she used to be.
"Your Grace!" Lord Frey bellowed from his seat at the high table. The men in the room began to bang their goblets on the tables, but Walder silenced them with a raising of his hand. "The septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said, and Lord Edmure has wrapped my daughter in a cloak. But they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, and a wedding needs a bedding."
The crowd cheered and laughed loudly. Freya looked around, causing a disgusted sound to fall from her mouth. "What does my sire say?" Lord Walder asked with a laugh.
They were slamming their goblets again, and Freya looked to her husband doubtfully. He shrugged and stood from his seat. "If you think the time is right, Lord Walder, by all means," he smirked, "let us bed them."
