The Crossed Rose - GoT - R.S.

Crown

Robb Stark. The Young Wolf. The King in the North. He had so many names now that Dahlia wasn't even sure which one to call him by anymore. Well, no. She knew. Your Grace. That was what he was now for all of his Lords - your Grace. A King. The King of the North and the Trident. A boy of 18, forced to grow far too quickly and far too much. They had made him a crown. The Lady Catelyn had told Dahlia that it look almost exactly the same as the ancient crown from the Kings of Winter.

"After Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen, only the gods know what the Dragon King did with his crown." She had said. "But my Father's smith made a wonderful job of recreating it."

"It really looks incredible." Dahlia had agreed, her eyes falling on Robb for a second, as he talked with his men while constantly moving the crown atop of his head. "I don't think Robb appreciates the weight of it, however."

"How could he?" Lady Catelyn sighed, quietly. "He's just a boy and carrying the weight of a crown in his head. Oh, my boy..."

And the two ladies were right, as magnificent as the iron and bronze crown was, Robb Stark didn't feel comfortable in the slightest wearing it. And try as he might, the poor boy could not figure out the best way to wear it.

"You have got to stop fidgeting with your crown so much, Robb." Dahlia had told him one night, when it was only the two of them in his chambers. "Especially around the Lords. They notice, you know?"

"I know they notice it, Dahlia." Robb sighed, the crown in his hands as he looked down at it. "I just... I just don't feel right, wearing it."

"It was made for you." Dahlia said even though she knew that was not exactly what Robb was referring to.

Lifting his eyes from the crown in his hands, and toward the girl sitting across for him in his chair in his chamber, he knew she understood.

"Not under my request." He said, as Dahlia sighed.

"I don't think any crown is made under the request of their bearer." Dahlia said, standing up from her seat to walk over to Robb and sit beside him at the edge of his bed. "Not the ones that count, at least."

"What do you mean?" Robb frowned as Dahlia shrugged with a small smile.

"A King who demands a crown is no King at all, is he?" She said, reaching a hand over to caress her fingers over one of the nine sharp spikes of the crown. "Crowns are passed down or given. You received your crown from your people because they saw in you a ruler they would be willing to follow. Our son will receive this crown after you, just as he will receive our values. He will be King after you because he'll be passed the position. And you will be King now, because your people chose you."

Robb turned to look at Dahlia then, a small smile on his lips as he watched the girl touch his crown with a mixture of apprehension and wonder. He could understand it. He felt the exact same whenever the crown was anywhere near him. Which was mostly all the time now that it had been forged.

"I just feel sometimes like they may have chosen wrong." He admitted, as Dahlia nodded.

"They haven't." She said, a reassuring smile on her lips as she looked at Robb as well.

"How do you know?"

"Because, if I had been given the chance, I would have chosen you too."

Robb chuckled then, a warm feeling of fondness taking over his heart at the girl's words. She impressed him, Dahlia Frey, each day more, she impressed him. And, for the first time, Robb found himself actually pleased with the arrangement for their marriage. She was every bit as bright as she was beautiful, Dahlia Frey, and she had a kind heart. He had seen it. And if he were to be honest, he had taken full advantage of it - having her in his chambers more often than not as she was forced to hear him rambling about the war and the Lannisters and his responsibilities and, now, his crown. But every time, Dahlia had done so, listening to him, comforting and even advising him when she could. She had been there for him ever since he took her from her home, as a wife should be and Robb suddenly felt bad, not having paid attention to her half as much as she had to him. After all, if he was suddenly trusted the responsibilities of a King, Dahlia Frey would soon be trusted the responsibilities of a Queen. And even if she didn't show it, Robb knew it affected her just as much as it affected him.