they call him the young wolf.
they say he can't be killed.
BOREDOM HAD ALWAYS been Hermione's biggest foe, one which she doubted she would ever defeat. It was boredom which had her holding two plates of mutton and wandering down the dungeons of Riverrun for captured hostages.
She had noticed one of the maids running back and forth with errands and decided, with nothing better to do, that she should help out. Though, as soon as she had reached the lower level of the castle, Hermione instantly regretted it. The humidity was so thick in the dungeons Hermione could barely breath, species unknown to her were growing and festering inside and on the stone walls and she had to walk firmly as not to slip and fall over the slick flooring.
Taking another left, Hermione tried to remember the maid's direction she had hurriedly given her. "Go down the dungeon stairs, take a left at the light post, two rights another left and then continue until you reach the only cell with an opened gate."
Had this been my second left, or was I supposed to turn right here? Hermione questioned as she stopped and started looking around as if a sign would come out of nowhere showing her the way. Then, like an answered wish, she heard the drifting of hushed conversation.
Unknown if these were the very people she was supposed to be feeding, Hermione followed them and found herself staring at two golden-headed boys and Jeyne Westerling. They were cramped inside a cell which seemed slightly bigger than a shack, with a small rectangular window on the back wall, two wooden benches—one which was occupied by one of the boys—and two stools—one which Jeyne sat on. She had the hand of one of the boys caressed in her, his wrist covered in what looked like a green paste while the other boy sat in the corner holding his side.
All of their eyes turned to Hermione, as she swallowed and held up the two plates of food. "I brought supper."
The boys' green eyes lightened with hunger and happiness and Hermione set both plates on an unoccupied wooden bench in the far corner of the cell. The boy Jeyne wasn't tending to stood to make a move for his plate of food but hissed in pain. His hand tightening around his waist before he sat back down.
"I told you not to move until I got to you," Jeyne said as she started wrapping what Hermione guessed to be his brother's wrist. Hermione nodded and started to make her way out when Jeyne called for you. "Could you help please?" she asked when Hermione turned back. "This would go a lot quicker if you could tend to..."
"Willem," the boy clutching his waist answered.
Hermione wanted to decline this offer, not just because being in the same room as Jeyne seemed to be the last thing she wanted to do, but because she was fairly certain these boys were Lannisters. Nevertheless, one look at Willem's pain-ridden face Hermione couldn't help, but agree.
Entering the cell again, she pulled the vacant stool towards the Willem and sighed. "Okay, you're going to have to move your hand if you want me to fix you up."
He grimaced, before pulling his hand away. Already Hermione knew it was bad seeing the large blood stain on his shirt. Swallowing, Hermione peeled the cloth away from the wound and witnessed the vertical gash. "Am I going to die?" Willem asked frightfully. The wound was large, spreading from the top of his hip bone to his chest, but it wasn't as deep as it seemed.
"No, we're going to clean it, which might burn... a lot, then we'll wrap you up to keep from infection and in a few months you'll have one hell of a story to tell your mates," Hermione smiled as she looked back at Jeyne's supplies and took what she needed. Some alcohol and gauze would do for now.
"You're Robb Stark's wife," one of the boys said to Jeyne and Hermione almost bit her tongue off as the tension between the two women thickened.
Hermione could feel as Jeyne's eyes glanced over to her and she nodded at the boy in front of her. "Is it true what they say about him?"
"I don't know," Jeyne said as Hermione tried to focus on preparing her supplies and not their conversation. "What do they say about him?"
"That he can turn into a wolf at night."
"True."
"And that he eats the flesh of his enemies."
"True," Jeyne said with a bit of humour laced in her voice. Hermione saw as Willem stared down at her in shock and fear. "You're a Lannister aren't you."
"Martyn Lannister," Jeyne's boy said with pride. "And that's my younger brother Willem."
"Martyn Lannister," the healer repeated. "You have nothing to fear, my husband doesn't eat children. Unless it's a full moon." She looked at Hermione and asked. "It's not a full moon is it?"
In the sense of good humour and for the frightened boys, Hermione smirked and shook her head. "No, I don't think it is."
"See, nothing to fear," she said as she finished wrapping Martyn's wrist. "Well, you're good as new now. Unless you have any other deadly wounds, I going to head up." Martyn shook his head and raced to grab the mutton his brother was so yearning for. "Will you be alright down here alone?" Jeyne asked and Hermione nodded her head silently. Not turning towards her, she heard as her footsteps left the cell and disappeared down the corridor.
Exhaling, Hermione poured a bit of the alcohol on a clean cloth, "This is going to burn," she warned before cleaning the wound and the blood around it. Willem hissed and clenched his teeth down to mask his scream. Hermione tried to be as quick and efficient as she could before tossing the dirtied cloth and getting another clean one from Jeyne's supplies.
"You know, I have a friend named Willem," Hermione tried to start conversation, she didn't know if it was some deeply buried maternal instinct, or it was because something about them—maybe it was the wide eyes, innocent faces, or blonde hair—reminded her of her own brother, Leo. "He's one of the best fighters I know... Not better than me of course, but good."
"Father hasn't let us train as yet," Martyn took another large bite into the mutton. "Our mum says we're too young, but the other boys started and our uncle Jaime began when he was young too, so I don't think it's fair."
Hermione had to swallow down the urge to cringe at the sound of Jaime Lannister's name. "Well, your mother is wise. She just wants to keep you the way you are. Times like these are tough."
"Yes, but shouldn't we be prepared," Willem interjected gaining his voice back as Hermione started wrapping the cloth covering his wound and waist with gauze. "I mean shouldn't know how to fight proper... To protect ourselves."
Hermione couldn't help, but to see their point. They were in the middle of a war, those who couldn't protect themselves ended up dead in times like this. "Well, it's tough. I bet your mum knows this, but as a mum you just want you babes to stay... well, babes. The minds of women are complicated things that many will never understand."
The boys agreed with laughter and Hermione finished with Willem when a soft clicking sound echoed down the hall. Her eyes looked to the door, but the boys didn't seem to notice anything. Willem grabbing his own mutton and started messily digging in.
Quickly, Hermione got to her feet and neared the open cell door. "What's going on?" Martyn asked.
Hermione shushed the boys. "Go in that corner over there," she pointed to the darkest part of the room. "Don't make a sound."
The clicking turned to footsteps and they grew louder by the second, the voices and screaming of men along with them. Metal clanging against each other, until the noise was blaring. Hermione stepped back to stand in front of the boys right as the horde of Stark men fought to get through the doorway first.
A man in full armour made it through first, but he didn't even open his mouth before a sword pushed through his gut and Lord Karstark stepped forward. His beard and balding hair snow white and brown eyes filled with anger. "Where are the Lannister heathens."
"I am Hermione Tatham, Lady of—
"I bloody know who you are," his saliva speckled in Hermione's face as his eye and that of the men behind him caught the two boys behind her. His sword pointing to Hermione's throat as he threatened, "Now, I'm only going to ask you once dearie. move out of my way."
"I am Lady Hermione Tatham of Camelot!" Hermione yelled. "And I order you to leave this cell immediately!"
Lord Karstark bared his teeth at her like an animal, but Hermione didn't wince or cower. For she had seen far more frightening men than him. The only problem was that he wasn't intimidated by her either. With no sword, no dagger, no weapon in her possession the northern lord removed his sword from Hermione's neck and wrapped his entire hand around it.
Lifting her off her feet in one swift movement. Hermione coughed and wheezed, fingers clawing against his hands with no effect. Black spots started fading from her eyes as she watched the men behind Lord Karstark advance predatorily towards the Willem and Martyn.
"Let her go!" Willem shouted, but it did nothing for either of their lives.
Hermione cried out as Lord Karstark's fingers flexed around her throat once before her threw her out of his way. Her body slamming against the opposite wall from the boys. Weakly, Hermione watched as the men barreled into the small cell. Heard the screams of Willem and Martyn filled every corner of it, the sound of metal cutting flesh before silence enveloped her along with an opaque darkness.
Hermione woke up to the sound of rain pelting against her window and a cold compress on her forehead. "You're okay," Mary sighed, pulling the rag away and embracing her in a tight hug. "Oh Gods, I am so sorry for what I said earlier... For being so short with you."
"Mary you don't have to apologize," Hermione breathed, pushing herself up and taking in the confinements of her chamber room. It took a second for her mind to catch up with everything that had happened, but when it did her hand clenched down on Mary's wrist. "Willem and Martyn?"
Her heart pounded faster and Mary's confused expression. "Who?"
"The Lannister boys," she clarified. "The hostages in the dungeons. What happened to them? Are they okay?"
Mary's face said everything she needed to know and Hermione wasted no time pushing herself off of her bed to make her way downstairs. The handmaid's polite orders for her to get more rest going ignored.
Pushing the doors to the Great Hall open, Hermione saw as Blackfish dragged Lord Karstark away and Stark guard carried the other men out. Her eyes then fell, not to Robb or Lady Catelyn who watched her with concern, or Jeyne or Edmure, but the two boys who lay on the ground lifeless.
"'Mione," Robb breathed reaching out for her. "Are you alright."
But Hermione didn't answer, nor did she welcome his embrace. Instead, her feet stopped between the two boys where she dropped to her knees. Mentally, Hermione told herself it was because of justice. The only thing that was wrong with those boys was that they were born into a horrible family, other than that they did not deserve the death they received at the hand of Lord Karstark and the other Stark men. Though, something deep down said that Hermione's care for these boys' death went farther than justice.
A single tear fell from her eyes as she placed her hand over their chest feeling their silent hearts. "They didn't deserve this," she whispered, her fingers moving to each of their wounds.
In the tips of her fingers, Hermione felt a small tingle. You have to believe in yourself, Ashara's voice whispered in Hermione's head as she closed her eyes. From there it was all instinct.
Pressing her palm down on their open wounds, Hermione slowly felt as the small tingle became a current through her arms. Feel as their injuries began to stitch themselves shut, then without missing a beat, Hermione leaned over and pressed her lips against Willem's and then Martyn's. Robb, Lady Catelyn, Jeyne and Edmure all watched in puzzlement as she blew a small breath of air into their mouths.
Instantly lightheaded, the small group watched as both Willem and Martyn's eyes snapped open and they drew in their first breath since death. The indistinct voices of the four around them as a wave of nausea swept over Hermione.
Attempting to get to her feet, Hermione swayed just a bit and Robb was there to catch her. Helping her up his wide blue eyes stared at her in bewilderment. "What did you do?" he whispered as Jeyne and Catelyn hurriedly checked on the two boys.
Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but there was no answer for what she had done. For what she could do. Ashara had never explained the full limits of her abilities, but this had been almost visceral. An uncontrollable need to balance of nature. Although Knowing this would all seemed insane she simply said, "I don't know."
Robb's eyes analyzed Hermione once more before he nodded. "You should rest," he said. "I have to get ready for the execution but after I think we should talk."
"Don't do it," Hermione shook her head, her hands gripping him as if this would be the last time they would share this close proximity. Although Hermione would never admit it, she missed his warmth. The way he had kissed her with such forgetfulness. Always like it would be his last time. "Northmen are proud, the Karstark will not give to you killing their lord. They will abandon you, Robb."
"Hermione, despite whatever you did I will not have murderers in my ranks," Robb explained. "No matter how high born."
"Then, I'm going," she said with a tone of finality. Hermione knew Robb enough to know he was a rock. There was little use in changing his mind when it was already set and when it had to do with honour. This when beyond simple right and wrong. "I want to be there... for you."
Robb's lips narrowed, but he gave in nonetheless. Ordering Mary to take Hermione upstairs to get changed, they all dispersed as Catelyn and Edmure aided Willem and Martyn to their feet and to a chamber room of their own.
"I don't think you should go," Mary spoke again once they left her room for the second time. Hermione had the black cloak thrown over her and a pair of ill-fitted boots she had found sitting in her wardrobe. "It's raining outside, you could get a cold. Besides, I think we've all seen enough death to last a lifetime."
On any other circumstance, Hermione would've agreed. There had been too much death around Hermione herself, there was no need to willingly go see another. Yet, this wasn't for her.
It was for Robb, Hermione reminded herself. To show her support despite how much she didn't approve of it. Robb was already down to a couple of thousand men counting the loss they received from the beginning of the war, and of the Frey men. His numbers would no doubt be split in half if he went through with this.
Walking to the courtyard, the rain was pouring down creating a dim fog around the green surroundings. Hermione stood with Jeyne, Catelyn, Edmure and Robb as two guards brought Lord Karstark out.
Robb, who now wore his armour and heavy winter fur, walked out into the rain to face Karstark. The man looked as if he had come to terms with what was happening to him. Devoid of fear or remorse for his actions in his beady black eyes.
The sound of tumultuous rain obscured the words they exchanged and then Lord Karstark was being placed on his knees. Torso laid across a large stone bench, his head hanging over it. Robb took his place beside him and unsheathed his sword. "Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold, here in sight of Gods and men I sentence you to die," Robb roared over the downpour. "Would you speak a final word."
"Kill me and be cursed," Karstark bellowed. "You are no king of mine!"
Raising his sword over his head, Robb sealed his fate swinging downward and slicing Karstark's head clean from his body.
The King in the North tossed his sword to the ground. Then, with clenched fists and rage plaguing his face, Robb disappeared through the tall hedges of the Riverrun courtyard. Hermione breathed and gave chase.
She found him pounding his fists against a tree, with each impact a heavy growl ripped from his throat. "Robb?" Hermione called out with no success in gaining his attention. Reaching out, she placed her hand on his shoulder gently. "Robb."
Caught in his anger, Robb swung around, his fist raised and stopping just inches from Hermione's face. She didn't move. When his hand fell and he screamed out his aggression, Hermione didn't flinch. Only reaching up and caressing his face gently, bringing his forehead to lean against her own as Robb's tears blended with the rain showering his face.
Honour had demanded Karstark's head, but because of that, the war was lost to Robb. Lost to his sister and Hermione tried as best she could to take a portion of that weight from his shoulders as so it wouldn't crush him.
Softly, Robb's lips pressed against hers as they had last night when he came to her door. With each kiss, a heat burned in Hermione's belly and she felt as Robb's arms pulled her flush to his chest. Turning them around, he pressed her back against the tree trunk as his lips moved heatedly against hers. Tongue begging for permission until she finally granted access to her mouth. His hands frenziedly clawed as her cloak and dress until Hermione felt one of the buttons pop off and pulled away.
This was not the place, nor time for something like this to happen, she reminded herself.
Although, Robb's eyes were still filled with lust, she knew he understood too. Resting his forehead against hers once more, he kissed her again. Gently and quickly, his blue eyes washed over her gold. "I find that I cannot bear to live in this world without you," he whispered, pushing a lock of her soppy wet hair away from her face. "I love you, Hermione."
"I love you too," Hermione breathed, holding onto him just a bit tighter.
And there they stood, together as they always did. The world and war around them soon melting away.