Chapter 2

She got little sleep before Catelyn entered her tent with a gown in her arms. Arya stumbled sleepily to her feet, trying to recall the dream she had had. Then she realized it had not been a dream at all. She let her fingers run over her burning lips. She could still remember the taste of ale on his tongue. Blushing, she let her mother pull the dress over her head while praying to whatever god listening that her mother could not tell that Arya had been out all night. Surely, she would not approve and give her a reprimand on how ladies were supposed to behave.

As Catelyn untangled her hair, Arya let her mind drift off – back to last night. She had never kissed a boy before, and had never – not even after listening to all of Sansa's fantasies- imagined it would feel like this. Her stomach fluttered by the memory of his hands in her hair, stroking her neck, cupping her chin…

"Don't you die on me, Gendry Waters," she had told him breathlessly before kissing him, almost desperately. Her heart had pounded in her chest and she remembered how alive she had felt. How the two of them had been the only people left in the world, and how her worries had completely vanished. A moaned had escaped her as he moved his lips down her neck and nibbled softly. Her fingers had trailed the features of his face, of his chest and shoulders before she had tangled them into his hair, pulling him closer. She had never imagined it would feel like it had; like a thirst that could not be quenched. Despite the passion of the moment, he had refused to go any further, still too wrapped up in her honor.

"One day we will see each other again, m'lady," he had promised and kissed the back of her hand. For once she had not minded the nickname.

"Arya, honestly, are you even listening to me?"

Arya realized she was smiling sheepishly into the looking glass, completely lost in thought. Her mother was scolding her impatiently.

"What?" Arya turned toward her. Catelyn cupped her chin and looked down at her, smiling and kissing her forehead.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart."

Arya looked at herself. She was wearing a green, woollen gown with a laced bodice. Her hair was set up in a familiar, yet strange-feeling hairdo. One she had often worn as a little girl back at Winterfell. As she looked at herself, she thought she actually looked like a proper little lady, and the sight was disturbing.

"It is one of Jeyne's old dresses. It is a little too large for you, but the seven knows how difficult it is to find something fitting your skinny frame."

Arya snorted. "Too large? I can hardly breathe!" she tried to pull the fabric from her stomach, but her mother gestured for her to stop.

"Stop complaining. You look wonderful. The Frey's won't know what hit them!"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Do I have to wear a dress every day? If so, I will be bloody miserable!"

"It is only for a little while, my dear. I have re-packed your clothes. Were you honestly planning on bringing all those weapons? We are the Freys' guests; we have to show that we trust them. Weapons do not equal trust." Catelyn put the comb into Arya's chest and turned to her daughter. "I will see that our carriage is ready. We will be leaving in a little while. Please don't ruin the dress."

When left alone, Arya hurried to the chest and repacked Needle and several daggers. They might be the Freys' guests, but Arya did not trust them in the least. Before leaving, she slipped one dagger into her boot and looked around the tent one last time. Although she had only been her a few weeks, the camp had been the closest thing to a home she had had since they left Winterfell all those years ago. It would be sad to leave.

"Arya," her mother called from outside, and Arya took a deep breath. This was it.

She was forced to travel in a carriage with her mother instead of on horseback, which made her furious.

"Now, I hope you remember everything Septa Mordane tried to teach you. We will want to be on Lord Frey's good side so he won't call back his men. No swearing, no slurping, no fighting, no yelling, no glaring-"

"I get it, no fun!" Arya grimaced and looked out the window. Although they had already said their goodbyes, she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Gendry.

"How is the dress suiting you, little sister?" Robb asked through the door.

Arya groaned and tugged at her dress. "I feel like my tits are falling out!" she had never been allowed to wear gowns with low cuts before, nor had she ever wanted to. However, here she was; her bodice so tight it pushed up what little of chest she had and made her feel much too exposed.

"Language!" Catelyn snapped sharply.

"You look wonderful," Robb smiled. "Are you ready?"

Arya turned and looked for Gendry. When there was no sight of him, she sighed and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be." But as the wagon started to move, she spotted a mane of black hair in the back of the crowd. Gendry's face was stern and bitter as he watched her disappear behind the trees. Arya felt an ache in her chest, and wished he were coming with them. She leaned out the window and waved, desperately trying to catch his eyes. Then he was gone. Gone behind the trees and the hill.

It was only a day's journey to the Twins. Arya spent the time imagining what she would say to Gendry the next time she saw him. If she would ever see him again. The thought of losing him made her eyes sting and she forced the idea out of her mind. This was not the time for weakness. She had to brace herself for what was coming. She had to be strong and brave like her brother. This is for Sansa, she kept telling herself. Yet, her mind kept wandering back to Gendry. She wanted to feel his arms around her again.

"Don't get stabbed," she had told him before she left. What a stupid thing to say! Gendry was riding into battle, and the last thing she had said to him was "don't get stabbed." As if that was not a given! Arya cursed herself for her thick wit and did not even notice that they were entering the gates of the Twins.

"Remember to smile," Catelyn said. Arya looked at her, confused. Then she heard the chiming of bells and the ferocious river beneath them. She caught a glimpse of the blue towers on a silver-grey field that was their banner. They were here. Her heart beat faster. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she reminded herself. I am a Stark of Winterfell. There is wolf blood running through my veins. The chiming grew louder. For Sansa. For Robb. For father.

"It is only temporary," Catelyn reminded her softly, squeezing her hand. Arya chewed her lip. In a few moments, she would be Lord Frey's ward and the thought was terrifying.

The carriage stopped and Robb opened the door for them to exit. He took her hand and steadied her as she balanced down the stairs in her uncomfortable shoes. There were a small group of people waiting for them on the steps to a great wooden door.

"King Robb," a man greeted and came forward to shake Robb's hand.

"Lord Edwyn," Robb replied and nodded stiffly. "This is my mother, Lady Stark, and this-" he put his arm around Arya's shoulder and guided her closer. "Is my sister Arya."

"My lady," Edwyn took her hand and kissed it with dry lips. Arya forced a smile as she studied the man in front of her. He was tall and slender, with long, dark hair. His skin was so pale he looked more a corpse than a living man.

Edwyn returned his attention back to Robb and said "Lord Walder is awaiting you in the great hall. I will personally escort the ladies to their quarters. I am sure they are longing for some rest after the journey."

Her lady mother was a talent at making unnecessary small talk, and for once, Arya was grateful for it. They were guided up several staircases to a chamber that overlooked the courtyard. Due to all the wedding guests, Arya and Catelyn would share room until after Edmure's wedding. Arya did not mind. The way Edwyn looked at her gave her the creeps, and she would rather sleep in the comfort of her mother's presence than alone and worrying about an unwanted visit.

"I will send a handmaiden up to you shortly," Edwyn bowed his head and left the room. Catelyn looked around and smiled.

"Well, this is not half-bad. Are you tired sweetheart? You might have time for a soothing bath before supper."

Arya shook her head and collapsed – stomach-down- on the bed. "I just want to sleep!"

Catelyn sat down next to her and patted her back. "You were a little short with Lord Edwyn. He is supposed to be your betrothed, you will have to make conversations with him eventually."

Arya groaned. "He is evil. I could see it in his eyes."

"Arya!"

She sat up and looked at her mother. "Save it, mother. You've heard the rumours about him and his brother. I am here, I am wearing a gown, but I cannot pretend to swoon for this man."

Catelyn sighed and reached for her daughter's hand. "No one is expecting you to swoon. However, I know you to be a better liar than this. Put your skill to use."

The Great Hall of the Twins was not very large, and very dimly lit. It had a cold feel to it, and as they entered, Arya felt a chill down her spine. Lord Walder sat upon his black oaken chair and looked upon his guests with wary eyes. Despite Robb's apologetic words, he still did not seem to trust them. To Arya's dismay, she was seated at Edwyn's side. He grimaced at her. Arya supposed it was meant to be a smile and tried to return it as best as she could. Catelyn gave her a look that told her it had not been very convincing.

"I hope the chamber was to your liking," Edwyn said. Arya cleared her throat and nodded. What would sansa say? She asked herself and tried to remember how polite and courteous her sister had been.

"Very much so, my lord." The words that came out of her mouth did not sound like her at all. Perfect. Catelyn looked pleased.

"Are you looking forward to the wedding?"

Arya looked at him. He did not seem like the talkative type, yet here he was, making pointless conversation.

"Yes I do. My mother got me a new gown especially for the ceremony. I cannot wait to wear it." Robb snorted, but were quick to cover it with a cough. Arya shot him a dark glance. The lying was actually not that hard. She would simply pretend to be Sansa – like she had done when they were kids and Arya was making fun of her. Perhaps this betrothal would be easier than she had expected.

"I am looking forward to seeing you in it," Edwyn said courtly, but his face was completely blank of emotions.

When the meal begun, a wide-shouldered man with black beard joined them. Although they did not really look the same, Arya could see that he was Edwyn's brother. She had heard rumours about "Black" Walder Frey. He was just as vicious as his brother, if not more. Edwyn might be acting polite as of now, but Arya would not be fooled.

"Is this your new wife?" Black asked and looked at Arya with a taunting smirk. "Looks nothing like your last one."

Arya looked to her mother. She had not been aware of Edwyn's previous marriage.

"Better keep a closer eye on this one, eh?" Black Walder laughed and drank an entire goblet of ale in one gulp.

Edwyn growled. "Enough, Black."

But Black Walder continued laughing. "She's pretty. A tiny little thing. Just how I like them…" the look he gave her made Arya nervous, and she glared angrily back at him.

Robb had had enough. "Lord Walder, with all due respect-"

Black Walder let his eyes wander over Arya's body before turning to Robb. "My apologies, your grace, I did not mean to offend your lovely sister." His words were as empty as his seemingly black eyes. "It was meant as a compliment, truly."

However, Robb did not look convinced. Arya wondered if he was starting to regret his decision to leave her and Catelyn alone with these people.

Arya suddenly noticed her uncle at the end of the table. He was searching the room in silence. She guessed he was curious as to whom he would be marrying the very next day. A pinch of sympathy rushed through her. As opposed to her, he would actually have to go through with the marriage. She did not know her uncle very well, but from what her mother had told her, he would make a good husband. Arya looked at Lord Walder's daughters. They were not very pretty either of them and Arya felt even more sorry for him.

"Oh, the singers are here," Black Walder grinned. "Brother, what song should we have them sing? Perhaps 'my lady wife' or 'six sorrows'?"

Edwyn shrugged. "I don't care."

"Personally, I have always been a fan of 'The rains of Castamere'. I don't know why, but there is something about the melody that moves me. What do you think, my lady?"

Arya realized he was looking at her and she sputtered, completely taken aback. "I… I find 'The rains of Castamere' a little… unfit for such a pleasant feast. They should play something a little merrier."

Black Walder snickered under his breath. Arya hated keeping her opinions to herself. Truth be told, she hated that stupid Lannister song. She wanted to punch Black Walder for bringing up the Lannisters at supper. It was only to get a reaction from them. It was well known that the Lannisters were keeping Sansa captive in the capitol. They were the ones starting the war, damn it. No, scratch everything she thought about lying being easy. It felt like her chest was going to explode from balled up yelling. Sansa would not yell at a feast, she reminded herself. Nor would she ever yell in front of her betrothed. Save it for later. Luckily, she had brought Needle. When the feast ended, she would practice until she no longer had the need to punch someone.

Edwyn did not make any more conversations. Nor did Black Walder. However, she frequently caught him staring at her chest. As did Robb, who were glaring angrily at the man. Her brother was positively furious at the end of the feast, and when spoken to, he replied with as few words as possible. Edmure had gulped down goblet after goblet of ale, and was now snoring loudly.

"Robb," Catelyn gestured toward her brother.

Robb nodded and made to leave. "Thank you for your pleasant company, my lords. I should get my uncle to bed – we don't want the groom to be drunk at his own wedding, do we?" Arya watched as Robb put an arm around Edmure's shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. Suddenly, she wished she had been the one to pass out on ale- anything to get away from this dreadful feast.

"I think it is time for my daughter and I to retire too," Catelyn smiled and put her hand on Arya's shoulder. "Thank you for a lovely evening, my lords." She curtsied and together they left. Arya had never loved her mother more.

She sat in the windowsill and stared out into the dark night. Her mother was sound asleep in her bed. It was a starry night, and Arya wished she were back on her hill behind the trees with Gendry. Was he thinking about her? Missing her like she missed him? Arya frowned and curled her legs up under her. Stupid little girl. All this acting like a proper little lady, actually made her think like one. What did she care if he thought about her or not?

She was about to get back to bed when she noticed two figures down on the grounds. One of them was unmistakably Black Walder. The other one she could not make out, but there were something familiar about his posture. Arya wished she could hear what they were talking about. There was this feeling that she could not shake off. A feeling of that something was terribly wrong. She had tried to talk to her mother about it, but Catelyn had told her she was imagining things. However, Arya had seen the way Lord Walder had looked upon his guests, and there had been nothing but hostility in his eyes. Her gut was telling her that winter was coming.