Game of Thrones: Frozen Fire

No Reprieve

The nights in Winterfell were peaceful and quiet. The cold forced people to find themselves inside their homes earlier than in other places, even if they were used to it. They weren't fond of any type of frivolous entertainment either; they lived with little and made the most of it. Northerners were hard people with warm hearts for the ones they loved.

The bloodcurdling scream heard stabbed the silence of the night like an arrow through a heart.

It was Theon the one who burst into the room where Robb and his mother were speaking. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't apologize. It took Robb only one look at his former best friend – brother – to know something very wrong had happened; the ironborn looked wild, the sweat making his hair stick to his face and his eyes seemed almost unfocused when he spoke.

"She cut his hand," he breathed out. "Your wife, she… she ordered Dacey to cut the Kingslayer's hand."

It was only that he needed to hear for him to hurry himself out of the inner castle, with Theon following closely behind and his lady mother not far from them.

He didn't know what to make of it. He actually didn't know where to go but Theon kept talking about the blood and the courtyard, about the mud and Maester Luwin attending the Young Lion's wound.

What had happened? What had driven Daenerys to do such thing? He had heard the stories of how ruthless dothraki people could be, of the rituals they performed and of Daenerys taking part of them in her role as their queen but she hadn't so far showed it in front of him. Robb of course knew she was a very strong woman, but she had not showed signs that could lead her to do this.

His steps slowed down at the sight of Maester Luwin ordering a couple of men to take the Kingslayer into the castle. Dacey was standing there with a conflicted expression on her face and a bloody sword still in her trembling hands; she had fought before and killed people but he guessed she had never expected to maim a brother-in-arms, a man Robb knew had become of significance for her even if they pretended to despise one another.

The heir of Bear Island woke up of her stupor when she saw how they dragged Jaime into the castle, letting her sword fall into a puddle of blood, mud and melted snow. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she walked past Robb.

The Kingslayer had passed out, and his body was limp.

Robb blue eyes shone like cold steel when they fell upon his wife, who stood there in her embroidered cloak, the hood covering her head and shadowing her face. Light snow was sprinkled over her head and shoulders and a piece of her braided hair peaked out to fall over her chest.

"What have you done?" He growled through his teeth, taking a long step her way but she didn't move. "What have you done!" he demanded before standing only inches away from her, noticing her clasped hands in front of her.

He roughly pulled off her hood and looked into her violet eyes, noses touching but she showed no sign of recognition, as if she were out of herself.

"Answer me!" he shouted and she lowered her gaze.

"It had to be done."

"Robb," his mother called softly, forcing him to twist his head around to see servants and guards looking at them. He knew this had to be done in private, just like his mother had advised in unspoken words.

And so her grabbed Daenerys by the arms and dragged her into the castle, pushing her roughly, feeling an unpleasant burning in his stomach, feeling frustrated and hurt. More hurt than she had ever done to him before.

His wife had betrayed his trust.

-o-

"Speak! Explain yourself!" he ordered as he shoved her in their bedchambers, his mother following closely and closing the door behind her quickly, right before Irri tried to enter the room.