Waiting for his future wife, Robb sat in Winterfell waiting. The small council had gathered that day to plan the wedding ceremony and have the future Queen be coronated. Robb wasn't the King of The North for no reason, and every King needs his Queen.

He had no idea who was coming to marry him, and that scared him the most. His girlfriend, Talisa, was nevertheless unhappy about the arrangement, as was Robb, who had planned to marry Talisa and make her his Queen.

"LORD TYWIN LANNISTER, OF HOUSE LANNISTER!," the announcer exclaimed as he came in with his horse, with Jaime trailing behind.

"LORD JAIME LANNISTER, OF HOUSE LANNISTER!," the announcer shouted as Jaime trotted in.

"QUEEN REGENT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS, CERSEI LANNISTER, OF HOUSE LANNISTER!," he continues.

Robb watches attentively, trying to locate his future wife-to-be.

"LORD TYRRION LANNISTER, OF HOUSE LANNISTER," followed by Tyrrion on his horse.

In came Elizabeth, half asleep on her horse, and barely looking at where she's going. She didn't far when her horse came to a full halt, making her jump awake. Turns out, a man holds the bearings on the reigns of the animal so that the announcer can call her name.

"LADY ELIZABETH FURROW, OF HOUSE LANNISTER!," he yelled, voice cracking by the end.

She couldn't even get a normal intro like her family. Great. She looked around, wondering which one of the Stark men would be her new husband, but she got nowhere. She hopped off her horse, then lead away by some women who were hired to get her dressed.

Meanwhile, Robb was pressed up against Talisa, kissing her passionately behind the castle walls. If today was the last day that they could be together exclusively, then he had to take that leap of faith with her.

She began undoing her dress when he abruptly made her stop. He gazed into her chocolate colored eyes, wondering if he was ready to do this with her, or if he was ready to do it with any one. He rested his forehead on hers, staring soulfully into her eyes.

"I love you, Robb Stark," she whispered to him, her teeth grazing his ear.

"I love you too," he leaned down and pecked her, holding her in his arms. "You can stay here if you want to."

"I think I'll take up on that offer," she smiles.

"I'd rather be with you than a Lannister any day," he strokes her cheek, "Now, I have to go meet my 'wife'."

"As long as you don't fall in love with her, I can cope with this arrangement," she says before he's able to leave.

"Believe me, my love is only for you," he gives her a smile before walking away.

Elizabeth had been all dressed up by this time, her green gown was complimented by her sibling's' mother's earrings. She loved them since the day she saw them siting on Cersei's vanity table back in Kings-Landing, and she'd been wearing them ever since then.

They gave her luck, even through battles, she'd never seemed to be on the losing side of things. She was a competitive one, in everything really. She'd beat Jaime countless times in sword sparring, and that's where her competitiveness had come from.

"We are here today to reunite the Houses: Lannister and Stark, by betrothing the King of the North, his Grace Robb Stark, and Lady Elizabeth Furrow," the grand master spoke, his voice very brittle, ticking Elizabeth off.

She looked to her right to see Robb, the man she fought in front of, standing next to her, with a harsh look on his face. He refused to maintain any eye contact with her, making her feel a little more uncomfortable than she already was. She couldn't wait till this was over and she could go back into her armor.

Elizabeth did as she was told, but when the wedding ceremony came to an end, she just got started on everything. She sat down at the feast next to her new husband, receiving gifts from everyone.

"Daughter," her father rose, with guards carrying a small cage in their hands.

"Father," she bowed her head down.

"I have two very important gifts for you," he says, unbuckling his sword and handing it to her, "For your love for combat, I give you my father's sword, made from pure Valerian steel."

"Giving a woman a sword is like giving a man a dress," a lord laughed.

"I am your Queen now, my Lord, I suggest you take a seat," she gritted her teeth at the man before looking back at her father.

"To forever remember your home," Jaime comes up to me with the cage, "A white lion cub, plucked from it's mother's breast, and just for you."

She took the little cub in her arms, earning gasps from people around her. Even Robb seemed a little spooked, but was extremely intrigued by her bravery.

"Never forget where you're from, Eliza," Cersei called her sister by her nickname.

Elizabeth looked down at the cub, then at Jaime before they all smirked at each other, and then shouted in unison, "HEAR ME ROAR!"

People cheered, some cowered, and others didn't even react. The Lannister's were a very close family, and a very envied one too, but that didn't stop them. And it surely wouldn't stop Elizabeth from doing anything she didn't want to.

The feast didn't last long, and soon, she was escorted to Robb's chambers by a woman. She felt uncomfortable sitting there in her night-gown. She'd normally sleep in her undergarments like the boys did in Kings-Landing, but it wasn't a custom for girls there, and it wasn't a custom here in Winterfell either.

All she could do was sit on the stool and sharpen her blade. She would take good care of it, occasionally rinsing off a jagged edge with her man-made sandpaper. Her mind filled with unnecessary thoughts, and that made her feel angry.

Why did she have to get married to someone like Robb, she didn't even like him. He had irritated her more than any man in her life, and believe that there were many men that had walked over her like she was a mat.

She dreamt of one day serving for her father in his fleet of soldiers, it had been her ultimate goal. She couldn't comprehend that she'd never fight again, I mean, they wouldn't let her fight again. The Stark's were people who were unfit to ever understand why a girl should be able to fight, but Elizabeth was going to break every rule they had in store for her.

As she heard shuffling behind her, she armed herself with her blade and swung around to point it at the man.

"You're quick with a sword, girl," Robb muttered, flicking the blade away with the back of his hand. "I hope you realize that I'm doing this for peace, not for anyone else."

"I couldn't honestly give a damn," she mumbled, going back to sharpening her steel.

"What's in it for you?"

"This marriage?," she stopped moving the sandpaper.

"Aye," he nods.

"To give gratitude to my father," she replies, beginning to scrub once more.

"To please an old man?," he chuckles.

"Have respect when you talk of him," she snaps, placing her sword back in the holster, securing it safely within the leather latches.

"Whatever," he mumbles, climbing into his bed. "Are you going to join me, or what?"

"Do I have a choice?," she sarcastically responds, getting up and moving towards the bed.

"I guess you don't," he says, in a monotone as he watches her get into bed with him. His heart goes up to his throat as he watches her ass as she bends over to hastily grab her hairbrush off the ground.

Robb looks away, thinking about Talisa, not wanting to betray her in that sort of way. He loved Talisa more than any woman in his life, and it killed him to know that he'd have to spend the rest of his days married to someone he didn't love.

"I'm not going to fuck you," she states, getting into her side of the bed.

"I wasn't planning on it, darling," he chuckles, making Elizabeth blush with embarrassment.

"Don't start," she replies, fumbling with her words before turning her back on him and burying her face in her pillow. There was a sudden shuffle in the sheets followed by a loud thump. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to notice a huge dire wolf making eye contact with her. "Hello there, little one," he stroked his chin.

"He's not friendly with other people, not even with Talisa," Robb grumbled, "How are you doing that?"

She got up and sat crosslegged on the bed as she fondled with the dog's ears, "Doing what, your Grace?"

"You can call me Robb when people aren't around," he rolls his eyes, "and, how is he not attacking you?"

"Dire wolves are a special breed of dogs, and have no full relations to wolves, so if trained and handled a certain way, they behave as you want them to," she explains, the stand sup on the bed, "Now, watch here, Stark boy."

"I'm all ears, my lady," he folds his arms behind his head in amusement.

"Grey Wind," she calls his name, then swirls her hand up then down before tapping him on the nose with her index finger. Her hand reaches her hairbrush, and she begins to brush the dog before putting it in the dog's mouth. She then took a seat in front of the dog, and miraculously, the dog began brushing the base of her back, and the ends of her hair.

"Granted, it's not perfect," she starts, "but it's a start for Grey Wind over here."

"How-how're you doing that?," he asks in disbelief.

"Dire wolves are smart animals, they mimic whatever you do to them, so when I brushed him, he got the sense of what I was doing to him and he did it to me."

"You're something else, Elizabeth Furrow," he shakes his head, collapsing on his pillow.

"I know," she smirks.

"So full of yourself too," he laughs.

"Watch it," she chuckles.