Robb walked with his usual unflappable speed and loud footsteps towards the Queen's suite to greet his wife and to make sure Roslin was bearing the pregnancy well. His uncle and co-master, Edmure Tully, trailed behind him with a worried expression, as usual, he wearied the monarch, who had a poor arithmetical sense, with headache-inducing figures and complicated ideas and strategies for working them out. Robb was least interested in these matters, without which the kingdom could not stand on its own two feet, even after successful campaigns and victorious battles. His uncle did not mind, for he knew that the Young Wolf trusted him blindly, and that he could work without a care in the world, and with all the means at his disposal, for he had complete power in his own office. However, in a difficult situation, he had to find an opportunity to present his ideas and plans to Robb Stark. On the one hand, so that Robb could approve, sign and seal them, and on the other, so that he could present them in his issued charters and proud speeches as if they had all come from his genius. This was essential to the success of the struggle.
- 'For heaven's sake, Edmure,' said Robb, raising his eyes to heaven, 'my horse is scarcely tied up in the stable, and you are already hanging on me. At least wait until I have greeted the Queen in a proper manner!
- 'That's just it, my lord,' groaned Edmure. - You must know that her condition is...
- 'I pray you again, uncle, wait till I have cleared the dust from the road!
- But, my lord, while you were out of the house...
He could not finish, for the king arrived at the women's quarters, received the greetings of the guards, and then entered the spacious room where Roslin and her ladies-in-waiting usually spent most of their days. As he crossed the threshold, a harmonious picture came into view. On benches made comfortable by soft cushions, young women in beautiful dresses were embroidering, sewing, weaving and other handicrafts Robb knew only by reputation. One of them read overly chiselled love poems from an ornately bound booklet written in the Nordic language, while Roslin Frey's nurse watched from the corner with a stern look hidden under her dark brows, quietly guarding peace and morals. But she need not fear: the poems spoken, which must have come from the pens of bards in petticoats, and at the sound of which the ladies-in-waiting sometimes sighed wistfully, were an affront to good taste, not to decency. All pleasant sensations and charm, a small island of intimate tranquillity in a world ruled by men, built on blood and iron. Robb usually saw something like this every time he visited his wife in the living quarters he had reserved for her. But this time something seemed to have changed. He didn't immediately realize what it was, he just felt it, strangely, in his gut, the way one feels danger or the secret looks behind one's back. Change was in the air. Even at nine months pregnant, Roslin Frey still retained her doe-like appearance. She sat in a gorgeous red velvet gown that fitted her body on a chair without a backrest, her back to her husband, who had just entered, and embroidered a snow-white shawl with a silver wolf crest, while she spoke in a soft, low voice about the figure she was wearing. It seemed as if she were showing someone the rare and beautiful shawl, which was even more precious, while her courtiers were busy listening to the poem. When Robb cleared his throat and greeted first his wife and then everyone else in the room, there was a sudden silence. Roslin turned and rose, revealing her nicely bulging belly, on which she placed her left palm protectively.
- "Welcome home, my dear husband," said the Queen in a low, perhaps timid voice, "I hope you had a successful and easy journey...
Robb wondered hard what he could say to her, but again the words failed him. He, of all people, who had led armies to victory, whose voice had filled the knights' halls with ease, and who, even at the negotiating table, had been able to shape his words to make everything go his way. This Stark man's eloquence was suddenly abandoned by a pregnant woman, but his perplexity lasted no more than a few moments. Finally, he regained his composure and looked at his wife with a stern expression. Roslin Frey needed only a few telling glances to let her courtiers know it was time to leave. Soon no one but the royal couple was left in the room. Even Edmure, who was waiting on the other side of the door, moved out into the corridor so as not to appear to be listening.
- 'You will give me a legitimate heir within a month,' Robb sighed deeply, and seemed to have calmed down somewhat, though he was far from peaceful.'I am King of the North, but I am as much a man of flesh and blood as any other. And as such, not without sin. When I look at my son, he will only remind me of my weakness. I will see in him what I should never have done in my life. Perhaps you will bring him into this world to mirror my weaknesses?
- 'I would never do such a thing, your Majesty,' Roslin shook her head, her voice unguarded, simply honest with her husband, 'nor do I think a healthy, vigorous male child is any kind of mistake.
She had no intention of looking down shyly, or of pretending to be a virtuous, penitent wife. Instead, she looked confidently, almost defiantly, at her husband. Her words were so irresistible that it was Robb who could bear it no longer and had to look away. Before he could say anything more, Roslin continued with unbroken vigour:
- You win battles, conquer empires and provinces, your will will soon be obeyed in every corner of the Seven Kingdoms," she said passionately, "yet you cannot secure your extended power without an heir. You must establish a dynasty, at any cost! You think our unborn son would be one of your failures? I see him as a weapon in your hands.
- What if this offspring of yours is stillborn or doesn't live more than a few days?
Roslin stepped closer to him. She took his hand gently and placed it on her bulging belly.
- He is proof that your seed is strong, Robb. Your legitimate child is growing in my womb. But what if it's a girl? You can't leave the throne of Winterfell to her. The Stark lords won't agree. And what if your bastard brothers Jon Snow or Casta provide us with an heir?
- "Enough!" cried Robb angrily, and, out of the moment of intimacy, he took a step back, knowing full well what Roslin meant. - Don't go on! I know we're fated to have a Frey offspring... But if we have a son, it will change everything. It'll be different now, I'm sure.
- 'Whatever the future holds,' the Queen chose her words carefully, 'even a bastard is better than a dead heir. Jon and Casta have Stark blood in their veins, whether they are legitimate heirs or not. I saw the look on your face when your mother mentioned them at the wedding. You couldn't deny your common ancestry. Besides, they've got brains, both of them strong as blacksmiths.
Roslin stepped closer to her husband again, risking another dismissive gesture. This time, Robb did not back away, but looked at his wife, who, as before, placed his hand on her belly.
- Do you think I would leave my inheritance to a bastard?" he asked with a stern edge in his voice. "I swore to give House Stark such a lineage that the Dragon Kings and all the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms would be shadows behind them. That my seed would be born a pack of wolves and my dynasty would make history. I promise you no less now, for that is all I desire, all I wish, and your most important task in life is to bear me as many heirs as possible. And if I do, my sons will make excellent rulers. But if you say one more word about your plan for my bastard brothers, I swear I will have you flogged!
- 'Forgive me, please...' bowed the humiliated queen.
Roslin was forced to bow to her husband's will. At the clever argument, the clever simile, even Edmure, waiting in the corridor, smiled, and the queen had to admit that Robb was telling the truth. Slowly, he removed his hand from her belly, and then rested his lips on the top of her head.
- "Good," the king forced a smile on his face.- "Did you bring your sisters here, too?" he inquired, and the queen reached out her right hand gracefully and stroked his bearded face.
- 'I took care that my sisters should not want for anything after this,' she said, smiling. - As wealthy ladies, they can live their lives quite well. I need no longer trouble myself to visit them in the Twins, my dear husband. Everything I could possibly need is here now. Within arm's reach.
More than eight months had passed since their marriage, yet it was only then that Robb realised what an irresistible force his wife was. Other men in similar situations might have slapped their wives across the face in indignation, or even punished them for indulging too much, but he was completely disarmed by the power she exuded.