A Vow Without Honor

The Trapped

He stood and embraced her again. It was not so hard this time, though she could still feel where his armor had done its damage, not that she minded.

"I'm here now," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

How could she? She had no home to return to.

Myra shoved that thought aside. There would be plenty of time to be somber later. For now, she wanted to enjoy the happiness she had been given.

"Aye, you're here," Robb replied, releasing her and giving her a onceover. She was still in her traveling gear, she noted, including her boots. "Let's get you something to eat, something to wear, and then you can help your brother fix everything."

Smiling fondly at her adorably useless twin, Myra returned briefly to her mother's side, kissing her on the forehead and making certain the furs covered her. Then she left the tent arm in arm with Robb.

Myra wouldn't say that all activity stopped upon her exit from the tent, but things certainly grew quieter, and there was a suspect amount of eyes focused on her person.

Unbidden, her thoughts returned to that moment in the courtyard, when Robert had first met her and the dreadful journey that had become her life began. To what did she owe that, the look of a dead woman, she wondered, and what was simply the horrid luck that seemed to trail after her family like some stray dog?

Coincidentally, a wet nose at her palm returned Myra to the present.

Scratching Brenna behind the ear, she was pleasantly surprised to find all the direwolves present, Nymeria included, though the creature looked oddly skittish.

"Not sure what surprised my men more, you or the pack you came with," Robb started with a smile, patting Grey Wind. "They've been whispering about it all night. Some have even taken to calling you the Wolf Mother."

"Wolf Mother?" Myra echoed, the words sounding ridiculous on her tongue. Though, if she were honest, hearing Robb say 'my men' felt even more so. Another confirmation their father was truly gone and the days had changed.

"I suppose it makes sense. You always were a mother to us anyway."

She could hear the sadness in his voice, but said nothing of it. He probably thought she did not know about Winterfell and their brothers, and wanted to put it off as long as he could. She took no issue with that.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that," Myra replied, clinging together to her twin as she surveyed the area. "I may have to rely on you now. Seems to me you've done alright."

They walked on, Robb navigating through the sea of tents with practiced ease. Mrya had no idea how he could keep track of anything. It all looked the same to her, endless rows of gray fabric in pristine lines only occasionally broken up by some stray tables or carts. Men in armor and leathers bustled about with weapons, horses, and various supplies, bearing sigils not only from Houses Glover, Karstark, and Umber, but also over the river lords, Houses Mallister, Bracken, and Tully. They all bowed their heads to her brother, giving their proper 'Your Graces,' and some additional 'my ladys,' before going back to business.

She felt her head starting to spin.

Winterfell she knew. Stores and ledgers and whether or not to open another cask of ale, she knew. Keeping the Greatjon far away from Lord Glover unless you wanted the harvest boar to be seasoned with blood, that was what she knew.

A war camp was another beast entirely.

"Besides starting a war and getting declared king, you mean."

Only a Stark would consider a crown a bad thing.

"Well, you didn't start the war," Myra replied, feeling a squeeze from her brother. "But, yes, maybe you could have avoided the king bit. You don't have a crown, do you?"