The Stable Girl

Philippa's hands were nearly raw from gripping the mass of straw for so long.

The horses had to look perfect, she knew, for the King and his horde would be in Winterfell within the next day. She had been working away tirelessly for hours, combing, washing and prettying House Stark's most esteemed horses.

She'd finally worked her way to Dancer, the young Lord Bran's gelding, who was the gentlest of all the horses.

"Hello boy," Philippa smiled, patting his muzzle fondly. "Are you ready to be lavished upon, my sweet?"

The horse whinnied happily, bending his head to nip her shoulder gently. She winced at the slight pressure of it, but continued onto her duties.

Philippa was the stable hand, and her father, Hullen, the Master of Horse, of Winterfell - she'd grown up around horses, and prided herself on knowing how to care for them. She combed the horse with the bound straw softly, cooing to him all the while.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?," she asked as she brushed down his side gently. "Of course you are! You're the most handsome of them all, aren't you, boy?"

She heard a deep chuckle behind her. She turned her head slightly to see Robb leaned against the threshold of the stall, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked very regal in that moment, the setting sun casting an orange glow around him. "You're very kind to the horses, Philippa."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she turned her body to face him, cursing herself for being such a fool. "Lord Stark."

"Philippa," Robb chided. "How many must I tell you to call me Robb?"

She blushed, but kept his azure gaze, and picked at the pieces of straw that were escaping the bundle in her hand. "Once more, as always, Lord Stark."

Robb smiled, his face looking all the more handsome for it. "How many more horses do you have to groom?"

"I saved Dancer for last," Philippa said. "Is there something you needed, my lord?"

"No," Robb grinned, "I only wished to know if you'd accompany me to the wood once you've finished your duties."

She gulped and looked down at her dirty breeches and stained tunic. "You honor me, Lord Stark, but I fear I am not dressed to accompany you."

"We are not attending a ball, Philippa," Robb laughed. "We are only going for a ride. And I care not for the state of your clothes, I care only whether or not you wish accompany me."

Philippa thought for a moment - how long had it been since she'd taken her mare, Honey, on a good stroll? "Alright. Allow me to saddle Honey once I'm done here and I'll meet you at the edge of the wood."

"Until then," Robb bowed and shot her a wink. "Oh, Philippa?"

Philippa smiled once more. "Yes, my lord?"

"You look more beautiful in your stable clothes than any other woman could hope to in their fancy dresses."