❝ You and I might not get along, but we have to win, for the sake of our home ❞
The gods might have dealt Eliza Bare and Robb Stark a bad hand, but they knew how to change this to their advantage and once they held all the cards, the world was going...
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{ Eliza }
✧✦✧
𝕰ven though Eliza had been to a battlefield multiple times already, the carnage of it all never left her. She brought her horse to a stop, trying to soothe his nerves as screams and moans of pain reached her ears. Robb was waiting for her, still dressed in his armour, with Greywind at his side.
"Eliza."
"Robb." She slipped down from her horse, handing his reins to a guard as she pressed a customary kiss to his cheek, to keep up appearances. "I am glad you are alright."
"Thank you." He bowed his head as Eliza turned to Greywind, making a fuss of the large wolf. "You don't have to be here, you know that?"
"Aye, I do." She pressed a kiss to the wolf's head, before standing up as Roose Bolton stalked towards them. Eliza didn't like the man, finding that there was something off with him, although she couldn't put that feeling into words.
"Five Lannisters dead for every one of ours." Roose reported, as Eliza caught sight of Anceron across the field, reigning in spare horses with the rest of the Bare men. He waved, causing her to smile. "We've nowhere to keep all these prisoners. Barely enough food to feed our own."
"We're not executing prisoners, Lord Bolton." Robb reminded the man, sounding weary from the night's battle. Greywind leant further into Eliza's side, panting happily.
"Of course, Your Grace. The officers will be useful. Some of them may be privy to Tywin Lannister's plans." Eliza hid the scowl that was threatening to appear on her face. Now she was Queen of the North, she didn't have the luxury of displaying her true thoughts on her face.
"I doubt it."
"Well, we'll learn soon enough. In my family we say, 'A naked man has few secrets. A flayed man, none'"
Eliza's head snapped towards the two men talking. Flaying had been outlawed in the North for a reason. The method of torture was brutal, too horrific to be used on anyone. Whilst living, the torturer would peel skin off of the victim, piece by piece.
"My father outlawed flaying in the North." Robb spat.
"We're not in the North." Eliza's eyes narrowed. Everything the Bolton man said had Eliza shivering in disgust.
"We should not be torturing prisoners." Eliza replied, threading her arm through Robb's.
"The high road's pretty, Your Grace, but you will have a hard time marching down it." Eliza sized the man up and down.
