Oh yeah forgot to mention last chapter. ARYA, as many of you have wondered, is now wandering the forest alone in search of her direwolf Nymeria, because she is important in later chapters. You WILL get a POV from her, so sit tight and get over it.

I do my own writing in my own time.

Oh, and the Hound is important. I might be doing a SanSan, but I might not. Depends on my mood. And if you want SanSan, REVIEW!

Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or Song of Ice and Fire. I'm not old. Or evil, for killing Robb Stark is EVIL!

RUGOR POV

Kicking through the bodies, Rugor eventually found the man that had stolen the king in the first place. His shrewd grey eyes were blank and wide with fear, frozen in his last moments. He pressed his foot to the open hand and heard the crack as his fingers broke.

The others were also examining bodies, stealing coin or warmer cloaks and even better leather boots then theirs. One man fingered a sword, russet with blood and asked "would it be considered wrong to take a man's sword if he doesn't need it anymore?'

Rugor shrugged, and the man sheathed the sword at his side anyway.

The thunder overhead boomed loudly, and rain started to pour desolately down on them. He covered his head with the cowl of his cloak and examined the scene of carnage.

The seven bodies of the Freys were strewn everywhere, in twisted positions and with the blank eyes of the dead. Crows circled overhead despite the rain, and flies were already settling on the bodies and buzzing in his ears.

Swatting one away, he said "the king isn't here."

Lady Stoneheart hissed, her grey fingers clenching the bronze and iron crown in her hand. Grey Wind stood over his kill, three Freys, their throats torn out and deep wounds in their chests where Grey Wind had bitten and clawed until white bone was visible in the torn mess of blood.

The air, once thick with the smell of rotten dead meat and blood, was cleansed away as the rain continued, washing the blood from his face.

Suddenly, something flitted in the corner of his eye. A shape, only a flicker of movement in the woods.

Drawing his sword for the second time that day, he circled slowly, eyes watching for anything.

Another flicker of movement, and a flash of steel in the woods.

Slowly, he approached the woods, his sword in front of him and held steady.

"What are you doing Rugor?" someone asked behind him. He concentrated on the woods when something flew out and he felt the cold steel slash cross his cheek, drawing fresh blood. He swung and missed, the blade burying itself in the trunk of an old tree.

"Hey!" he barked, whirling around.

He spotted a small dirty child, a boy or girl he had no clue with a dagger in their fist. They glared at him with cold grey eyes and hissed "Who are you?"

"Ar- err, Arry?"

The child turned to the voice, a young boy about sixteen with black hair and blue eyes. He was stumbling, as if not believing who this was.

The child looked dangerously angry, a silent black storm gathering in his eyes and his fists clenched till his knuckles were white.

"Gendry." He muttered under her breath, as if this boy had wronged him somehow.

The boy, Gendry walked over and sized her up. He towered a foot over him and where the child was small and thin and angry, he was tall and thick set and confused and a little happy, however little.

"Who are you?" he demanded, sheathing his sword, but keeping it loose. This child could easily gut the boy, who wore the sword on his hip with an obvious newness to it.

Gendry shook his head and said "This is Arry, a boy I met when I was out of King's Landing."

Arry scowled at the boy and turned his back on him, turning instead to him.

"And who are you supposed to be? Edmure Tully?" she demanded. Rugor flattened his Tully red hair and scowled at her. His father's father was a bastard of Tully, and the red hair had descended through the family.

He crossed his arms and said "Rugor Rivers. Captain of the guard. Listen boy, we have important business. So unless your with those Freys over there, you'll have to leave."

The boy scowled and punched him in his arm, his thin arms having surprising force to them.

"I hate Freys, and if you imply that again I'll stick you with a dagger." He growled, showing the dagger.

Rugor shook his head and said "you still have to leave. We have no time for little city rats."

The boy opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and instead turned to Gendry, who still stood there.

"I'm looking for someone. A boy, my brother. He has red hair and blue eyes."

Rugor shook his head and said "Haven't seen your brother. Now move along boy."

Arry frowned and examined the group.

"See you brought your new family with you." He said venom in his words and a cold steel like the dagger tied to his waist.

Gendry nodded and said "We're looking for your b- the king in the north."

Arry froze and turned his eyes from Gendry to Rugor and over the rest of the Brotherhood. He snarled and said "I'm following. I don't need a horse, but I'm not leaving."

Rugor turned to Lady StoneHeart, the unvoted but clearly undisputed leader. She was watching Arry with cold eyes, studying his face and watching his movements.

She gave a slow nod.

Rugor sighed internally, but said "Fine. Share a horse with someone, someone you won't stab in the back."

Arry turned around and said "Your horse is big enough for two."

Rugor could not believe the gods would do this to him.

Grey Wind was watching the hill, leading the group from the front of the pack, sniffing and sometimes just following something, a feeling. The king and his wolf were connected in a way that man and animal should not. It was like the wolf just knew that the king had been through here.

Arry made no sound, just kept one hand on his dagger and one eye on him.

Finally, he said "Night's falling, we'll camp here."

Arry nodded briskly and vaulted from the saddle, like he'd been riding his whole life. Rugor made no comment.

There was no chance of a fire, since the ground was damp and it still poured heavily. They all huddled under their cloaks and tried to keep warm. Lady StoneHeart alone did not sleep, and Arry looked no more tired then before. Rugor kept one hand on the dagger sheathed at his own hip and fell into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

EDWYN POV

Dawn came bright and early, the sun rising slowly over the horizon. Edwyn woke quickly, his eyes open and ready to move.

The king was still sleeping, huddled under the cloak, but seeming a bit stronger then before. He woke as soon as his hand touched his shoulder and sat up, groaning as he moved to quickly.

"We're leaving." He told him, going to saddle up the horses left outside in the rain.

Thankfully, Edwyn was smart enough to bring their saddles and saddle bags in out of the rain, and the horses were dry enough and ready to ride. Strapping the saddle, he led the horses back to the house.

Robb was sitting on the ground, using a the sharp end of a silver pin off Edwyn's cloak to try and pick the lock to the chain snaking around his ankle. Edwyn watched for a moment and said "That is my pin."

For his credit, he didn't blush or get angry or anything. He stared at him blankly, nad leaned back and watched Edwyn pull the key from around his neck.

He didn't move as he knelt down next to him, and unlocked the chain, keeping one hand nervously on his dagger.

As soon as the lock clicked, Robb had his hands around his throat, fingers closing off his windpipe.

Struggling for breath, his shaking hands grabbed for the hilt of his dagger and he choked "You can't survive without me."

Robb's face didn't move from stony and he said "Those bandits attacked your men. I might convince them to help me back to Riverrun."

Edwyn's lungs were burning as he gasped "You won't make it there yourself. You don't know where you are, or even if the bandits are still after us. You need me."

The fingers loosened slightly and Robb scowled at him.

"You said you wouldn't kill me."

That struck him deeply, but his grip didn't release. He grasped the dagger and drew it from the sheath silently.

He twisted it and brought the hilt slamming into the back of his head, again and again until Robb's hands left his throat. He felt warm blood on his fingers and he heaved air. Robb was lying on the ground, blood dripping down his back slowly. A massive lump was forming behind his head and Edwyn gripped the dagger. Robb was dazed on the ground, blinking stars from his eyes and his hand reached for the back of his head, drawing away red.

Edwyn stood and said "You almost killed me."

Robb looked at him blankly and said "you are holding me prisoner, to take to King's Landing to get my head cut off like my father's. I will be expected to fight back."

Edwyn pointed the dagger shakily at him.

"Try something like that again and I won't let King Joffrey have the honor of killing you. Bastard."

Breathing air, he approached and tied his hands and blindfolded him with some scrap cloth in his pocket. He pressed the dagger to his back and marched him towards the horses waiting outside. He tied him to the saddle and slung one leg over his own horse. And they were off.

Edwyn had to keep looking behind him to see if the king was still there. Swaying in the saddle, his head slumped, he saw the russet stain on his neck. He gripped the dagger again and rubbed his tender throat.

The bloody bastard.

The traveled far, making no stops or deterring from the Kingsroad ahead of them. He had a somewhat fair idea where he was. Then he spotted it.

Shimmering amongst the green of the trees and valleys, the God's Eye sat, the distant Isle of Faces in the center of the lake. It was almost the same shade of green as the grass, like a green looking glass.

He stopped and stared. This was the biggest collection of water he had ever seen. He had never been to see, never seen a lake before this day. The massive expanse of water was massive to him. He couldn't believe this much water sat in one place.

He stared for a moment before remembering himself and gauging the map in his head. The God's Eye was only five days ride from King's Landing, maybe longer at the rate they were travelling. Maybe a couple more days longer.

He steered his mind from the lake and turned back to the king.

He sat as before, slumped over and breathing softly. He relaxed slightly and made to go around the God's Eye. If the map in his head was right, going left then south east would lead them to King's Landing, and he would receive a hero's welcome. Small folk shouting his name like they never had before and maybe even the King would thank him, and his queen mother.

Settling into his daydreams, he didn't hear the hooves behind him, getting a little louder with every hour that passed…

SANSA POV

Placing the last folded dress in her saddle bag, she closed it and stashed it under her bed, settling on her bed. Her best dress, a pale blue with a golden thread neckline, sat beside her, and she tried to calm her racing heart.

The Queen had asked her to dinner tonight with her family, Joffrey, Tommen, and Tywin Lannister. For it was certain that Joffrey was no more Baratheon then Tommen or Myrcella. Or Cersei, it seemed.

She stood and unlaced the back of her dress, and her maid rushed in to help her with her new dress. She hung a gold chain around her neck, with seven pearls settling at her throat. Like she was holding her family near. The smallest one would be Rickon, being the youngest. The shiniest one was her, and the dirtiest one was Arya. Robb had his own, a darker white, almost like the fur of Grey Wind. Her mother's was always warm to touch; her father's cool but smooth. And Bran's was chipped, broken like his legs.

She smiled and let her maid curl her hair up around her head, not in the northern styles she had resented before, but in the southern styles that now seemed quite ridiculous. As soon as she was ready, another maid entered and said that she was to go down to the dining hall with the Lannisters.

She straightened her dress nervously and forced a smile to her face. She felt like she was walking into a snake pit.

Or a lion's den.

The four Lannisters were seated at the table, and she felt out of place in blue when everyone wore red and gold. Like the true northern woman she was.

She sat at Tommen's side, and he smiled brightly at her. He was too sweet to be a lion, he was more like the kittens he adored, sweet and cuddly and cute. Cersei was the she lion, graceful and beautiful, but perfectly willing to tear your throat out. Tywin was the leader, though Joffrey thought himself king.

She smiled at the growling lions and said "good evening lords and ladies, Your Grace.'

Joffrey nodded and Cersei said "Sweet Sansa, a pleasure for you to join us tonight."

Tommen nodded and said "My lady." In a sweet voice.

He reminded her of Bran, thought they looked and aced nothing alike. But she missed her little brother, and Rickon and Arya and Robb and her mother.

She smiled at the little kitten and said "I as surprised to receive the invitation to join you my lady. I am most honored."

Cersei smiled at her, like a snake in pretty dresses and with a woman's shape and face and long golden hair. Nothing but a snake.

Tywin set down his wine glass and said "My lady, it appears that the Freys bringing your brother are at the God's Eye, approaching as we speak. Are you happy?"

Sansa felt her hands shake, but folded them in her lap and said "I am quite pleased my traitor brother shall be brought to justice, and King Joffrey swinging the sword himself."

Joffrey smiled, twisting his wormy lips and said "Lady Sansa, you honor me."

Nothing but a lion's den.

Cersei set down her glass and turned to look at Sansa with her emerald eyes.

"You seem to be growing into quite a beautiful young woman Sansa. Nothing like your wild sister, who acted more like a peasant boy then a lady."

Cersei watched her face carefully, waiting for a reaction. Sansa sipped from her now filled glass and said "Thank you my lady, but how ever beautiful I grow, I will pale in comparison to you."

Cersei smiled, a mask stretched tight over her face to hide her displeasure at the lack of rise taunting her family brought up.

Sansa turned to Tommen and asked "How many kittens do you have now my lord?"

Tommen smiled, glad to be included and said "Three. I named them all myself."

Cersei smiled at her son, her teeth flashing white.

"Sweet Tommen, why don't you go fetch a kitten for Lady Sansa to see. She would love that, wouldn't you Sansa?"

Sansa nodded, feeling the trap closing in around her. Tommen jumped from his seat and ran from the room, calling for his kittens. Leaving her alone with three lions.

Joffrey said nothing, taking his food and starting to eat.

Tywin asked her "How have you enjoyed King's Landing Sansa?"

She looked down at her plate and said "the city is most marvelous my lord. The Red Keep itself is grander than anything in the north."

Tywin nodded and Cersei asked "I hope you enjoy your stay. You will be queen one day, when you wed Joff. You will be such a grand couple."

She locked eyes with her, like the beady eyes of a predator and she asked "do you have any plans or wishes to leave King's Landing. You seem distraught."

Sansa swallowed and envisioned Lady at her side. Her faithful direwolf would have made her brave. But she was dead, and Sansa was alone.

Swallowing the fear that made her tongue thick, she said "of course no my lady. Why would I ever want to leave King's Landing?"

Cersei smiled and with a smile of poison said "that is very nice dear. And do you desire to be queen?"

Sansa wanted to shout no, that she want her home back, and her family and Lady in the north, far from the rat's nest and snake pit that is the South. She wanted her sister to tease her and her brother's down in the yard training, and Bran climbing up the castle walls. She wanted her mother to braid her hair and her father to kiss her and she wanted to tell him that she was so sorry, that he was dead because of her. She wanted to sing and dance under the falling summer snow and to marry someone in the north, not her wretched son Joffrey.

But she held her wishes, hid them deep inside where no one would touch her precious dream and said "I do not wish for the throne, but if I marry His Grace, and if I was only a small bit the great queen you are, I would be a great and beautiful queen."

Cersei smiled and they continued their meal in silence.

As she touched the dinner knife in her sleeve, she prayed for the gods to help the Imp with his plan.

THEON POV

(I haven't read Dance of Dragons, and I have no idea if this is right. So excuse me if I'm wrong and correct me.)

The bright morning sunlight that streamed through the thick barred window never reached his corner of the cell. Trapped in the darkness, he was trapped in his own mind, surrounded by the blood and bodies and fires burning in his eyelids. The battle at Winterfell had not lasted long, and he could still see the men around him dying, ones he had known for years. Rodrik was one, the blood streaming from his body, staining the snow ruby red. He never knew that blood could be so white.

The often thought of what ifs, what would have happened if he hadn't done some of the deeds he did. If he had stayed with Robb instead of heading home to the Iron Islands. Instead of seizing Winterfell and pretending to kill Bran and Rickon. If he had died in the Whispering wood, and if he had never been taken captive.

He wondered sometimes what would happen if he was ever released. If Robb would remove his head himself. He likely would, since he killed what was probably the last of his family and destroyed his home. He could see the cold eyes, like chips of ice that froze the insides of enemies, turned on him as he knelt before him, the massive long sword Ice in his hand as he raised it for the final blow. His father was dead now, Ramsay had crowed, thinking it would bring him grief. The same that whipping and torturing and whispering things brought him grief. He learned of nothing from the outside world except his father's death, and that had brought no emotions. The man was a stranger, not seen or talked to in ten years. He was nothing but some casualty, in this bloody god be cursed war.

The sound of the opening door made him tense his muscles, search for a sign of who had entered. It would most likely be his tormentor, Ramsay Bolton, really a bastard Snow like Jon. The heir of the Dreadfort since his son was dead and the Leech Lord had no siblings.

He loomed out of the shadows, shorter then himself. But that didn't stop the superior look from spreading across his face, like the smirk at every fall of the whip or blade across his body.

"why, lord Greyjojy, I have news for you." He said, circling him like a wolf and a deer, his prey, to kill.

"I know you think of him. Your bloody king in the north. Your friend, brother, ally. The boy you left behind for one final chance at being with your family."

He felt the cold bite of a steel blade and whisper of blood as it bit into his side, near the burns over his heart. He winced and breathed "what about it you bastard."

Ramsay smiled, a sickly smile that made him dread insulting him. But it wasn't worth it anymore. Seeing the masked hurt in his eyes at the word bastard, and then the burning pain he suffered for uttering the word in his presence.

"well, the Boltons have bested the Starks after many years. Thinking he had our trust, and with Walder Frey and Tywin Lannister, we killed his army, and his banner men. Killed them at his uncle's wedding. Even saw his whore of a mother get her throat slit."

He laughed and leaned against him, and said "your precious little friend his heading south in chains. Going to end just like his father. With his head rolling."

Theon didn't know what to think. He dreamed every night, of the hiss of the blade going through his neck, and the cold merciless look in Robb's eyes as he swung the sword. He could imagine his head roll, seeing Eddard Stark execute many a man before.

Now, there was something close to grief. He couldn't imagine Robb dying at the little prick Joffrey's hand. He couldn't see him kneel willingly, fighting at every step. He couldn't see the little six year old boy he watched grow up dying under a traitor's sword.

Ramsay was watching him, waiting for a reaction. Receiving none, he twisted his arm and pulled his head close to his.

"Lord Bolton has decided that it was high time that you die for killing the king's brothers. Not for the king, more to prove that he is willing to do justice. The others will follow when they see the murderer beheaded. Lord Bolton will rein Warden of the North, and I will take over after his death."

His face twisted in smile again and he hissed "you can count on it that I will swing the sword for my father."

Theon looked away, fearing he would see the lie in his eyes at the words 'murder his brothers.'

He knew that Bran and Rickon were too far away to be in danger from this bastard.

Well, important note. I SCEWED UP! I realize now, thanks to some pointing out from MB18932 that I totally messed up with Tyrion Lannister's character. He probably wouldn't help the Starks and save them from an execution. And I am wondering if I should just make him a total traitor and lie about the execution rescue. Sansa would watch Robb lose his head and see no army rescue him.

And there's Arya for you. Alive and well. And with the Brotherhood without Banners. This should turn out well.

Please help me fix the Imp's mistake. I have no idea what I should do next. I screwed up and don't know how to fix this.

Just saying…

OH, sorry if Theon is out of character. I feel like a did a bad job. Man, this AN is long.