Fianna Bua, Lady of House Bua, never thought that she'd be riding off to war for the liege lord she hadn't even met.
But oaths are oaths, the Buas have fought alongside the Starks for centuries and she wasn't about to be hailed an oath breaker.
So w...
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Song: Dirty Paws by Of Monsters and Men
They left Winterfell when the night had fallen upon them, to lessen the chance of being seen and therefore, lessen the chance of a rider being sent to King's Landing to inform them the Starks were marching. Which was a very viable possibility where there was a hope of being compensated.
Fianna had dark shadows under her eyes from the lack of sleep, her eyes fluttering between open and closed as she travelled on her horse, with Chroi trotting along beside her. Mud caked the wolfhound's legs and feet, and she decided that when they were to stop to camp, Chroi would lay on the floor from now on, instead of at the foot of her bed where he usually slept.
She hadn't seen Robb Stark since he had left her to her chambers, a small blessing she had realised. She was unsure what to think of him, but she was sure that the last thing she wanted was the Northern Lords thinking she had the intention of pleasing Lord Stark and getting into bed with him. Or that this had been the reason she was riding off to war - for a husband.
He marched at the front, with Lord Glover at his side. His giant direwolf riding alongside him as Chroi did with her.
Fianna was almost avoiding him at this point, purposefully hanging back in the party in case he were to speak with her. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd, being one of only two ladies. She wouldn't be able to avoid him forever, of course. Northern Lords met as a council and she would be required to attend a council meeting whenever Robb decided to stop riding and set up camp.
Ser Mick rode next to her, keeping her company. He was an ageing man, his hairline well receded into a tuft of white hair at the back of his head. But he had a kind face, and had been loyal to House Bua for many years now.
"How are you finding your new position, my lady?" He asked her.
"It's quite jarring, in truth," she admitted, "the only war I've been in before now was when Tiernan and I had stolen two swords and play fought until he nicked the top of my arm." She smiled as she reminisced over the memory. "I was so angry that he had left a small scar, I remember commanding men to carry troughs of horse dung up to his chambers and fling it across his entire room."
Ser Mick laughed at this, leaning his head back with his laughter reverberating around the vanguard. She laughed along with him.
"Perhaps you can fling horse shit again if you get nicked in battle, the bards will sing songs of the horse shit flinging maiden of the North." They burst into laughter again, catching the attention of the surrounding men.
Her laughter started to die down when she noticed the party in front of her had stopped. Every man began to dismount their horse and scatter around. She stepped down from her horse, assuming this was where Stark had decided to set his camp for a while.
