CHAPTER 20 | A HAPPY NAME DAY

THE Battle of Oxcross was fought on Freya's name day. It was dark outside, but the time was still in the hours of the morning. Rain cascaded down their heads as they attacked House Lannister reinforcements camped near the town of Oxcross. Robb had his army move into the Westerlands when he heard of this reinforcement being near.

Robb had promised Queen Cersei Lannister that he would litter the South with Lannister dead, and so he did. Robb and Freya led the force into the night, crushing the Lannister army with their own. They marched with armies from House Bolton and House Karstark as well. The two rode their horses through the drenched camp, but they did not falter, going back to back at some points to keep each other armed. A year ago, Freya would've never thought she'd be here – in a battle, protecting Robb Stark's back, and he for her.

The battle was a Stark victory. The Lannister host was under the command of Ser Stafford Lannister, and he was eventually killed by Freya's own bloodied hands.

Freya tried to keep her mind off her brother. They hadn't heard from him in over a week, and it was starting to worry her. Balon was hard to crack with alliances, but Freya hoped he'd at least hear out Theon's case. There had to be a piece of sympathy in him for wanting to help out the first war her and Theon were ever involved in. Was he proud of them for that fact? Or was he disappointed because it was not a war for the Greyjoys? She didn't want to think about the answer.

Freya walked beside Robb and Roose Bolton as daylight finally hit the horizon. They walked together across the battlefield, followed by a group of Northern lords. The air stunk with the scent of blood, and screams cried out in pain. Corpses were littered amongst the grass, a sight that gave Freya a hint of excitement that she was part of the army who caused this victory.

"Five Lannisters dead for every one of ours." Roose Bolton bellowed from her right. "We've nowhere to keep all these prisoners. Barely enough food to feed our own."

Robb looked up. "We're not executing prisoners, Lord Bolton."

"Of course, Your Grace." Roose said, almost falsely. "The officers will be useful. Some of them may be privy to Tywin Lannister's plans."

Freya frowned, watching the corpses being raided of coinage. "I doubt it, my Lord."

Roose sighed. "Well, we'll learn soon enough. In my family we say, 'A naked man has few secrets. A flayed man none.'"

Freya raised a brow as Robb muttered, "My father outlawed flaying in the North."

"We're not in the North."

They stopped their walking, and Freya pushed her hand against Robb's armor. She looked to Lord Bolton. "We're not torturing them. They're prisoners of war."

Roose nodded, glancing at the two leaders. "The high road's very pretty, but you two will have a hard time marching your army down it."

"The Lannisters hold prisoners of their own." Robb responded with a frown. "I won't give them an excuse to abuse my sisters."

A screaming soldier for the Lannisters was near, causing Robb's attention to shift to him. He walked towards the soldier, who needed to have his foot removed because it was infected. But Robb was not staring at the soldier, Freya noticed. He was looking at the dark-haired nurse helping the man. Freya lofted her brow, but said nothing as she led Roose Bolton away.

Freya met with him face to face, and he only stood a couple inches taller than her. "Were you threatening to remove yourself from our army, Lord Bolton?"

"It wasn't a threat, Lady Freya. It was a suggestion." He replied, looking away. "Did you say, 'Our?' I believe you are a Greyjoy. The last thing I know your father wishes to hear is that you've allied yourself with the Starks. He'd be terribly disappointed."

She narrowed her eyes. "You do not know my father. In fact, we are waiting on a letter from him regarding a load of ships being sent for our cause."

"And what will you do with those ships? Move onto King's Landing?" Roose asked, to which she nodded. "Then you will kill King Joffrey. What after that?"

Freya viewed at her boots. "I haven't thought that far yet." She shrugged. "I am no longer a ward to the Starks, since Ned Stark's death, but I am willing to help in this war. I suppose I will return to the Iron Islands after this is all over, once I hear word from my brother. But first, I would like to win the war."

Roose huffed as she heard a male call for her from behind: "Lady Freya! Lady Freya!" She turned quickly, watching the fat banner man sprint towards her. He waved a scroll in the air as he ran. "It's a letter! A letter from your father!"

Freya smiled, but little did she know that the letter she would receive from her father on her name day held a grimmer note.

•••

"Balon Greyjoy has rejected our terms."

Freya held the letter from her father tightly in her hands as Lord Manderly announced his statement. She kept reading over his words, but soon enough, they all blurred into the word, "No." He rejected the terms and planned to go against the Starks. He wrote to Freya, explaining how upset he was that his eldest daughter still sided with the Starks. Balon excused her of abandoning the Greyjoy name, leaving Freya hurt deeply. He hadn't even wished her a happy name day.

Robb held a hand to his mouth at the head of the table in his tent. He rubbed away the small dose of sweat that appeared on his forehead. "What do we do now? We can't get to King's Landing without ships."

"Maybe you should hold off on ships until a later time," Roose Bolton suggested.

Robb nodded slowly. Freya exhaled softly and set down the letter on the table, causing the boy next to her to view up. "What do you think we should do, Freya?"

She continued looking at her hands. "My father is now appalled with me. He's accused me of abandoning the Greyjoy name because of my actions, and I fear my brother is now being held under his grasp. I do not think he will listen to me anymore."

The table was utterly silent. All the lords sat idly, thinking long and hard of what they could devise. After a long moment, Lord Bolton began to laugh, startling the silence. The lords looked up at him. "You know what would truly piss off Balon Greyjoy?" He chuckled darkly. "What if we had Lord Stark and Lady Freya marry?"

Freya's breath came out into the cold. She felt it deflate from her lungs, and she looked like she'd seen a ghost. Roose's suggestion left her wanting nothing more than to run away, because as much as his voice was filled with jest, she knew the Northern lords would think it to be a grand idea.

"That ..." Lord Umber pointed a finger. "That could work. It would secure an alliance without Lord Greyjoy's permission and having Lady Freya's name could help our army collect ships from any of their allies."

Lord Manderly raised a hand. "Doesn't a marriage require the father's agreement?"

"Not necessarily," Greatjon smiled. "It is advised, but not essential."

Robb stared ahead with dark eyes. "No, I do not wish for this. I must marry one of Lord Frey's daughters after the war."

Lord Bolton persuaded, "You must think in the now, Lord Stark. Marrying Lady Freya will help your cause, and you may still marry a Frey daughter later. I am sure he will understand, and most Kings take many wives anyways."

Lord Karstark didn't say a word, but watched over angrily.

Air was clogging in her throat. The men were staring at her now, all expecting an answer. Freya couldn't give them one, because she couldn't marry Robb. It wasn't because she didn't want to be a second wife. It wasn't even because she didn't particularly like him. It was because her purpose towards this marriage was for war, and eventually, she'd be asked to bear him a son, and her body physically couldn't do that.

"I ..." She paused. "I need time to think about this."

Robb didn't dare view at her. "And we should wait for my mother to return as well."

"I do not suggest that," Roose added. "We must not wait. If Theon Greyjoy is now being plotted by his father to betray House Stark, this ceremony must move quickly. We can have you married within a day."

Robb and Freya's eyes met then, and they both held the same look of pain. Freya didn't know what to do. She swallowed down the lump in her throat before turning back to the other lords at the table. "Give us a day," she insisted. "I appreciate your honesty, my Lords, but you can't just shove marriage under our throats and expect us to agree."

And with that, Freya stood from her seat and sprinted out of the tent. That was the last time she wanted to speak to any Northern lords for the rest of the night.