Game of Thrones: Frozen Fire

Enemies

It was the third day since after the wedding, since Robb had found out about the betrayal of one of his alleged allies, of a man who had sworn loyalty to his grandfather. And not only that, but he had lost houndreds men who weren't ready to fight that night and then, when he realized Roose Bolton had disappeared from the great hall, he sensed he could not trust the Lord of the Dreadfort.

"I've sworn loyalty to you, Your Grace," Roose Bolton said in the same unwavering tone he always used, a tone that was so firm Robb could not tell if he meant it or not. "I would have defended you if anything had happened. That man did not deserve to live, you were justified."

"Why did you leave us?" Robb asked, brow furrowed with doubt and confusion, but anger overall.

"I did not," the man replied without pause. "I had just left the party for a minute, but by the time I returned, guards were blocking the door. I could not get inside and come to your aid."

"You weren't fighting with Ser Barristan either."

"I thought you needed me. I tried to look for another way in."

But words were just words. Robb did not have the certainty of what had happened, and therefore he could not take the extreme measures he wanted; he needed the men and the allies after this unfortunate incident. If Roose Bolton decided to abandon him and their mission, then he had more troubles to face.

He was currently facing many issues, like injured soldiers and the loss of supplies, and even more. Now half of one of The Twins' towers had fallen due to the damage done by the dragons' fire, blocking the Kingsroad. It would take days to clear up the way, for his mother and sister to return home, for them to be free of guarding their lands.

Sighing, Robb let his head fall onto his hands. At the moment he sat on an armchair next to a window with a view of the Green Fork; but he was facing the bed where Daenerys lay, still weak and sleeping like she had done for days, only strong enough to sip the broth Irri carefully fed her each time.

They were losing time and that could translate into giving an opportunity to Tywin to plan a more careful strategy to attack and retake the Westerlands. It was certainly unsettling to hear the rumors about Joffrey, or more likely his grandfather, hiring slave soldiers called the Unsullied. Ser Jorah's explanation about who they were did not help him feel any calmer or ease his fears. According to the Master at Arms, the Unsullied were soldiers who did not know anything but to obey and fight; they were raised to do everything their master told them and felt no pain.

Arya heard attentively the story about the Battle of Qohor, in which three thousand Unsullieds killed twelve thousand dothraki. Robb had just listened to what he was supposed to fear and, after, he was trying to come up with plans to destroy them.

"Robb?" a whisper woke him up from his reverie.

His sweet queen, the woman who had fought fearlessly next to him just a few days prior, looked paler than usual. Dany's lips were dry and had lost their lovely pink color. Robb could see her struggling to open her eyes to search for him.

"Here I am," he murmured as soon as he was at her side, taking her hand in his, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. With his other hand, Robb pushed her platinum hair off her forehead tenderly, allowing himself to cup the side of her face.

As stubborn as she was, she tried to sit up even after the countless time him or Irri, even his mother, had told her to stay put. She winced and huffed when she felt her head touch the pillow again.

"What have we said to you?"

"We need to go back. We have to show them we're not defeated. Robb-"