CHAPTER 35 | TO BE BARREN

ROBB'S strict devotion to justice resulted in what his family warned him about. The Karstarks extracted their soldiers from his army and marched home. Freya counted that they had lost almost half of his forces that were stationed at Riverrun.

Freya was particularly bored that night. She dressed herself in a nightgown and robe, leaving Robb disgruntled that she wouldn't accept Talisa's help as her new personal healer and handmaiden. Freya refused it, because she was just simply not ready. She knew she could take care of herself for the time being.

She found her husband in the great hall of Riverrun, standing over his map and placing pieces on it. He studied it at his leisure, not noticing Freya from behind. She stepped forward into the room, stating, "It's late, Stark." He didn't even move to look at her. "Don't you think you should sleep?"

"No," he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "My mother was right. You were right, eventually. I should have listened. The Karstarks are gone. Almost half our forces are wiped out."

Freya watched him throw the pieces to the floor, and they made a loud clattering sound. She looked down at the board as he said, "Tywin Lannister knows what he needs to do to make us unravel: nothing. Only wait."

"You should've let me behead Karstark," Freya jested, trying to lighten the mood. "It would have made everyone hate you less, and the last thing you need is your men hating you."

Robb managed a small smile, and both their eyes fell on the board. "What can I do? Attack King's Landing? There's nothing he'd like better. Tywin would crush us in a day."

"Well," Freya exhaled and laid a hand on his shoulder, "let's eliminate the possibilities littering your mind. You can't ride North and try to take back Winterfell, that's for sure. We can't wait out a winter that's predicted to last five years. Once our banner men are home in the North, they'll never ride South again."

Robb hit a hand on his forehead, and Freya's own fingers latched on, preventing him from doing it again. "You're right," he agreed. "Gods, when I gathered my lords together, we had a purpose – a mission. Now, we're like a band of bickering children."

"Then let's look at the map again." Freya suggested, taking their hands and pointing to the spot where they were stationed now. "We're in the Riverlands. Winterfell is too far. The lords in the Eyrie possibly despise us." She moved their hands right. "That way is Pyke, and my father certainly hates me now, considering his last letter. No options there. The closest areas are the Twins," she moved them downward, "and then King's Landing."

Suddenly, both their eyes landed on a spot right next to King's Landing. Casterly Rock, the home of the Lannisters. Freya and Robb's gazes met, and a look of awe engulfed their faces. Their grip on each other's hands grew tighter, and eventually, their fingers laced together as an idea formed in both their heads.

"We can't force them to meet us in the field, and we can't attack them where they're strongest," Robb said, "but we can attack them where they're not."

Freya's grin went wide, "And Casterly Rock can't run away."

Robb moved one of the Stark pieces onto said area. "We're going to take their home away from them."

Freya bit her lip before kissing her husband. She quickly leaned away, beginning to jump up and down in excitement. "Gods, it was like we thought it both at once!" Their hands laced together as the couple jumped in place at their idea. The sight of this would have terrified her ages ago, but now, she had never felt more comfortable around Robb Stark, her husband.

She halted her movements, turning back to the map. "Wait, can we do it? Is this even possible?" She tapped a finger on her chin. "We don't have enough forces. We could lead two armies: you on one and me on the other, and hit them from both sides."

"We need men to replace the Karstarks who marched home. There is only one person in this kingdom with that kind of army who hasn't already sided with the Lannisters." Robb threw a Stark piece between his hands. "The man whose daughter I was supposed to marry first."

Freya looked to the Twins, whispering, "Walder Frey." Their eyes met again, and anxiety began to fill her system. "You know what you must do, correct?"

"Approach Lord Frey about allying ourselves with him again?"

Freya sighed. "Yes," she replied, "but you must also offer a marriage proposal."

"I ..." Robb squinted his eyes, pointing from himself to his wife. "I don't understand. We're –"

"We're married, yes." She answered for him. "Offer him another proposal. Take on a second wife."

Robb's brow lifted. He was flabbergasted at her request, to say the least. "Freya, I meant what I said about not wanting to marry a Frey girl." He blinked rapidly. "I want to be married to you and only you. You're my wife and battle strategist. I don't need another one."

Freya looked to her hands. "You will if you want another army."

They both paused, allowing Robb's hand to casually stroke her arm. The fabric of her robe felt soft against his fingers, and sometimes, he wished she would let him truly hold her. "You're my wife – my only wife." He whispered softly. "I want to die beside you. I want us to survive this war and other wars to come. I want our children to flood the great hall of Winterfell. I want my sons to become just like their father, and like my father before me."

Freya swallowed down the lump in her throat as she viewed up at him. She was cracking; her core was fading away. She didn't know what to say or do. Actually, she did know what to say, but she simply didn't want to. Freya's nails dug into her palms. "That's not going to happen, Robb," she said in the smallest voice. Tears prickled her eyelids. Gods, she chastised, the words were going to come out like vomit.

"I don't understand." He grasped the sides of her face, and when she turned towards him, he saw that she was crying. "Freya, what –"

"I'm barren."

Robb's face fell, but his hands slowly slid away. All he could do was stare at her, but Freya – oh, dear, sweet Freya – clasped a hand over her mouth, trying to cover her sobs. Robb blinked before securing his arms around his wife, allowing her tears to stain his jacket. Freya's body racked with cries and she prayed for him to hold her tighter. He did.

Robb pursed his lips when Freya grew to a quiet sniffling. He asked, "When did you –?"

"Maester Luwin informed me when we were at Winterfell." Her mouth wobbled in sadness. She clutched his jacket more. "I didn't think this would happen. I never expected to be married. I always planned to not. And I certainly didn't expect to care for anyone besides my own family, but that was left in the dust."

He slowly brought her in his vision, caressing his thumbs across her cheekbones. He rubbed away her tears with a melancholy expression. "I'm your family, and you're mine."

"But I can't provide you one, so what use am I?" She huffed. "Sure, I'm great with a sword in my hands, but that isn't a woman's place in our world. All that has ever been asked for me is to be wed and to have children, and I can't pursue that because my body won't allow me. I never let you touch me because it would have been no use. I felt that I couldn't give you anything. This is why you must marry the Frey girl. She can give you sons. She can give you an army."

Robb hugged her again, placing a kiss on the top of her head. The news made his mind frazzled, but this was his wife, and he clutched onto her more than ever. The candlelight brought new life to her hair, and created a shine in her watery, grey eyes. "What I want is you," he whispered against her skin. "We'll figure this all out."

Freya hoped he was serious.