Honor and courage are matters of the bone, and what a man will kill for, he will sometimes die for, too.
(Diana Gabaldon – "The Fiery Cross")

ARYA

Arya's hands were trembling.

Again and again, she brought the stone she had brought along down on the iron lock while she could hear the direwolf inside the cage growl and hiss and making the wooden walls tremble when he threw his weight against them.

Just be quiet! she begged somewhere in the back of her head; they would hear him and they would kill both of them, she did not even have a weapon, and she probably had never wished so much to have Needle back like she did right now.

"What do you think you're doing there?"

She flinched as she heard Clegane's voice. Only inches away from her, she could still hear Greywind growl and call for his master; carefully, she managed to get two of her fingers in the narrow space between the wooden planks. The wolf fell silent, curiously sniffing familiar skin.

"You can't sell me out to anyone if there's nobody left" she replied with a hiss, "Open it."

If it wasn't already too late for that.

Clegane narrowed his eyes at her, obviously arguing with himself on how much money would be worth the extra trouble she provided.

"Step aside" he answered then, his voice surprisingly quiet.

Arya pursued her lips and quickly made a step aside; Clegane brought his sword down on the lock with such force that it was split in two. Just in time, she managed to grab Greywind's fur before he could disappear towards the feast hall; his fur stood on end, and the noises he made seemed to come straight out of a nightmare. Maybe it was her luck that, being three years of age, the giant wolf was not fully grown yet, and still he almost threw her to the ground.

"Wait!" Greywind's teeth flashed in the torchlight, but he seemed to recognize her; he stood, staring at her from bloodshot eyes. "They'll kill us all if they see you!" She quickly glanced back over her shoulder – nobody was around, but the torches were dancing vividly, and far away she could hear screams and orders being yelled.

"We need to find Robb…"

In the blink of an eye, Greywind held still at the sound of his master's name, ears perked up with attention. Arya took a deep breath and shot another quick glance over to Clegane, who obviously had decided that a few feet between him and a raging direwolf were quite a good idea.

She took Greywind's head into her hands, looking him straight in the eyes. When she had last seen him, he had been no more than a pup, following her brother around at Winterfell – now, he was almost taller than herself, experienced in battle and the taste of human flesh. Something moved behind his eyes, dark, angry, maybe scared, but wide awake, as if he was listening to every word she said.

"You need to leave" she said quietly, "You need to leave and hide, just like Nymeria. You can find us later on, but you need to leave now so they won't hurt you."

Greywind stared at her without blinking. Arya could see his chest moving; he was breathing heavily.

"You… need… to… leave" she repeated, returning his stare with one of her own, so intense that she could feel herself tearing up.

Please. Please, go and find your sister. The image of a giant she-wolf running through the forest came to her mind, as vivid as in one of the dreams she sometimes head. You need to leave.

Greywind made a small whimpering sound.

Carefully, she let go; the wolf made a few steps back, seemingly more insecure than ever before, before he gave her an almost pleading look and headed for the forest, disappearing between dancing torches and black leaves.

Arya and the Hound exchanged a look – his eyebrow twitched slighty, he obviously wondered what she had done with Greywind – and she started to run, heading towards the feast hall.

The doors were closed and locked.

Cowardscowardscowards!, her thoughts were screaming, more names for her list, but she needed to get to know them first; Clegane grabbed her by the neck like a misbehaving pup and dragged her back behind the next corner.

"I imagine you had a plan?" he growled; she shifted and squirmed in his arms, but he didn't let go.

Her lips were moving silently as thoughts were racing through her head; she hardly felt how she was trembling all over her body. The air tasted of blood and smoke and death. Maybe she shouldn't have sent Greywind away, he could have fought for them, but the soldiers were armed with swords and crossbows, and Greywind was just one… Her head was spinning and she seemed unable to catch a clear thought.

The world seemed strangely frozen for a few seconds, then Clegane grabbed her shoulder and pushed her out into the hallway, right in front of the soldiers that were guarding the doors.

The elder one – she could catch a glimpse of red hair and pockmarks – gave Clegane a long look, one hand at the hilt of his sword.

"You're the Hound", he said then, "You're too late, they've already started."

Arya bit her tongue to avoid her teeth from chattering. She felt sick. Cowards, cowards, cowards.

"Well, then they need to stop" Clegane answered as relaxed as if he'd been waiting for this for weeks, "The king wishes Robb Stark and his traitor mother to be executed publicly in King's Landing, not butchered by a bunch of soldiers at a wedding feast."

His grip on Arya's arm did not lessen an inch; it hurt.

"This is Arya Stark, sister to Robb, and they sent her here to identify her mother and brother, to make sure Walder Frey sends the right people to King's Landing."

The redhead gave a snort.

"Feel free to gather whatever is left of them" he replied and stepped aside.

Ever since Arya had seen her father die at the Sept of Baelor, she had suffered from nightmares, and they had gotten much worse in the Riverlands and Harrenhal. However, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when Clegane dragged her into the wedding hall.

Her mother was surrounded by dead Northmen and some dead Freys, her dress splattered with blood, but with a raging fury in her eyes, pressing a knife against a girl's throat who could barely be of age. Robb leaned at one of the tables, his face as pale as chalk, obviously barely being able to keep himself at his feet; she caught a glimpse on dark stains on his clothes and crossbow bolts. The two of them seemed to be the only Northmen still alive; when Arya crossed the room, she could see many sigils and faces of others she'd known once – Dacey Mormont, with bloody lips and her body cut open from her hip up to her chin, a man wearing the crest of Umber, Manderlys, Lockes, Flints… the body of a dark haired, beautiful young woman, hands clutched over her bloodied skirt protectively… Arya turned away.

Walder Frey was seated at the head of the table, watching over the room with an impression as if they had disturbed him during an exceptionally tasty meal when he saw Clegane and Arya. At least he seemed to recognize the Hound, since he raised a hand and the soldiers that had already pointed their crossbows at them lowered their weapons.

"You're late, Clegane" he snarled with a voice sounding like cracking wood, "You can take their heads to King's Landing, if it pleases you…"

Catelyn stared at her daughter without a word, while Robb seemed to have trouble to see anything at all, his eyes veiled with pain and exhaustion. Arya squirmed in Clegane's hold again – someone help him! – but he did not let go.

"I'll take them to King's Landing in one piece, as it pleases the king" he answered, "with an escort of your men, to show your loyalty. By order of his grace Joffrey Baratheon, the first of his name."

He pulled Arya a little closer and she could feel something cold being pressed against her own throat.

"Lady Stark, the knife… if you'd be so kind."