NA: This chapter takes place, again, many months after the previous one. In that time, many things happened differently from the books, as a consequence of some characters' decisions. Robb was wounded in a battle and Jeyne Westerling took care of him, but as Theon didn't betray him, he was never falsely told that his brothers were dead, and he didn't feel so vulnerable and in such need of affection to fall in love with her and break his promise to the Lord of the Crossing.

Arya

She had been uncertain of the Hound's plan at first, but in the end everything had turned out quite well. The guard at the gates had believed him when he introduced himself as a farmer and, without so much as glancing at them, he had told them to leave their pork in the kitchen. They had walked the direction they were told, but when they reached the door that was supposed to be the kitchen's he just left the casks on the floor and turned back.

"What are you doing," Arya complained. "We are supposed to leave that in the kitchen."

"Never mind what we are meant to do, girl. It's the hall we want to go to, not the kitchen."

He started to walk in quick strides, and she almost had to run to follow and keep up with him. Sandor didn't need to ask for directions: the deafening music guided them well enough. They had to climb some stairs and walk through a corridor, but fortunately nobody saw them in their way. There was another guard in the hall's door, though, and he stopped them as soon as he saw them. He told them to go away, whoever they were.

"I won't go," the Hound told him, unsheathing his sword. "Either you will let me in, or else I'll go in on my own, and kill anything that stands in my way. Do you wish to die tonight, or would you prefer to let me in?"

The guard stared at him in silence, considering his options. Arya thought that he had none: he had a sword too, but he didn't seem very strong; he was a rather old man, he had slim arms and he carried no shield to block any blow. The music was also too loud for him to be able to call for help, and if he even tried to do so, the Hound would just run his sword through his chest on the spot. With his eyes wide with fear he stepped back and opened the door for them.

The hall was specially decorated for the occasion, and there were Frey and Stark banners hanging everywhere. There were many tables full of richly dressed knights, lords and ladies, most of them of House Frey. All of them were either too deep in conversation or too drunk to even notice their entrance, but Sandor would take no risks. "Hurry up! We need to find your mother before any other bloody guard sees us. Follow me, look down and don't say a word until I tell you. Not even when I talk to your mother," he grunted.

Arya knew why he wanted her to keep quiet: if she spoke up before he could explain himself, her mother wouldn't know that he was actually bringing her back to her family, and she wouldn't pay him for his service. She didn't think he deserved anything: she could very well have got there by herself and, besides, she was never going to forgive him for killing Mycah. But it would do her no good to tell the Hound that right then, so she just nodded quietly and followed him.

Her brother Robb was seated at the center of the high table, talking to a pretty brown-haired lady who sat next to him. Mother was to his right and Arya though there was a smile on her face as she regarded Robb and his bride. Robb's friend, Theon, sat between the Frey girl and Sansa, and was talking very excitedly to his betrothed about some battle he had fought as she smiled foolishly and looked at him wide-eyed with awe and amazement.

"Lady Stark," the Hound called out. "I've got something for you."

Her mother looked up at him and Arya could see her eyes go cold and hard as steel as they met his. "I don't know what you came for, but as far as I know you were not invited to my son's wedding and you have no business here. Unless you want me to call the guards on you, I suggest that you leave immediately."

"I'll leave soon enough, if you don't take me in your guard," the Hound replied, nonchalant to Lady Catelyn's response. "The only thing I demand is that you pay me for my service. Some fifteen golden dragons will do."

"I owe you nothing, ser. Leave now, or I shall call my son's men."

"Mother, what's going on?" Robb asked.

"This man over there came here uninvited and demands that I pay him for no reason at all."

"For no reason at all?" Sandor snorted. "I bring you back the girl you are making all this war and fuss about, and you say it's nothing at all?"

"What girl are you talking about?" Robb asked, puzzled.

"Princess Arya, of House Stark," he mocked.

"I am not a princess!" Arya shouted at him.

"Arya? Is it really you?" Her mother asked, noticing her presence for the first time and giving her an appraising look. Arya moved closer and looked up at her. "Oh, child, where have you been? I've missed you so much! I was so worried… Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I have been travelling for a long time. I wanted to go to Winterfell, but the Hound said it would be quicker to come here." Telling the whole story would take her a long time, and she did not think this was the moment for that. Besides, she couldn't tell her mother that she had killed a stableboy, feigned to be a boy and fought in a battle, or could she? "May I sit with you?"

"Of course, my dear. You can sit here, next to me," her mother offered. Then she turned to the Hound. "I might have been hasty to judge you. You shall have the ransom you asked for, and a place in my son's guard, if you would take it."

"I'll take your ransom, and the post that you offer me."

Her lady mother took some gold off her purse and gave it to Sandor. Then she excused herself and left the table. Sansa and Robb asked her a thousand of questions concerning her whereabouts and the way she had got there, but fortunately they didn't expect any long answer, and she could get away with giving them very little information.

Presently her mother returned, accompanied by a plump, dark-haired man with a pointed beard. "Lothar, this man," she told him, pointing at the Hound, "is called Sandor Clegane, and he shall be my son's man-at-arms from this day on. Could you escort him to the pavilions with the rest of His Grace's men?" When the plump man nodded she continued. "I would also require you to find some clean gown for a girl of about ten. Surely there is some girl that age at The Twins?"

"There is more than one, my lady. Yet why would you need it for? Is there anything wrong with your daughter's dress?" He asked, eyeing Sansa, whose pretty green dress was spotlessly neat.

"Princess Sansa's dress is fine," she answered cautiously. "But my other daughter, Arya, has just come here unannounced, and she is not properly dressed for her brother and king's wedding."

"I see…" he said as he regarded Arya with astonishment. "I shall find something for her. Follow me, Ser Sandor."

"I am not a knight," the Hound said, but he followed all the same.

After a while Lothar reappeared with a pretty light blue dress for her and he led her to an empty room so that she could get changed. She put it on and then returned to the feast, ready to have dinner with her family. She sat next to her mother and helped herself to some meat, but she had barely tasted it when everyone got quiet and Lord Walder Frey spoke.

"My dear guests, I hope you are enjoying the feast," he said. "Soon enough will be the time of the bedding, and everyone here shall have the chance to laugh at His Grace for once, without causing offense. But before that, there's an announcement I'd like to make. I have been informed that we have an unexpected honored guest here: Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell is in this hall. I think it is a perfect time to introduce her to her betrothed: my youngest son, Elmar. Come here, my son."

Arya stared shocked at her mother and her brother. She couldn't have been promised to some boy without her even knowing about it. Her mother loved her, in spite of everything, and she wouldn't do something like that to her… Or so she had believed. Her lady mother made no complaint and did not deny the betrothal. She looked uncomfortable when she met Arya's eyes and mouthed something that the girl could not hear, but she thought it was an apology.

Arya glared at the boy who had stood up and approached his father, and she was all the more angry when she recognized him. "I am not going to marry that stupid boy!" She yelled, ignoring the nervous glances of her family, the offended eyes of the boy and the amused faces of most of the other Freys. "He's a conceited, coward, ungrateful fool, and I hate him!"

"But why do you say so? Princess Arya, you don't even know me! You can't hate me yet."

"Yes, I do know you, Elmar. And you know me, but you're too stupid to remember."

"Arya! Stop talking like that! The boy has done nothing to you," her lady mother scolded her.

"Remind me, then," Elmar demanded. "Where have we met, my princess?"

"I am not yours! And I am not a princess!" Arya said, annoyed. Why didn't anyone understand that? "We met at Harrenhal, when you squired for Lord Roose Bolton."

"But you weren't there!" The boy exclaimed. "Lord Bolton, please tell them!"

"As far as I know, the princess was never in Harrenhal while I held the castle," he confirmed.

"But I was. You didn't know because I didn't tell you who I was. I was Nan, the serving girl. I was the weasel who served the soup."

There was a silence, as the boy stared at her shocked, Lord Bolton abstained from saying anything and the other ones present were too puzzled to utter a word. In the end, Elmar dropped his gaze shyly and in shame, and he mumbled, "But you… you never told me. If I had known that you were my betrothed, my princess…"

"I couldn't tell you. The Lannisters could have retaken Harrenhal, and in that case, if I had said who I was, I would now be back in King's Landing, locked in some cell. And it makes no matter who I am. You shouldn't be rude to people just because they don't have castles."

"Well, Your Grace," Lord Walder Frey addressed Robb. "It seems your sister is unwilling to marry my son. She's a willful child, it would seem. But it makes no matter: we can make another arrangement, to make up for this failure."

"I would gladly consent to another match, my lord. What do you suggest?" Robb asked him.

"My eldest son is dead and my second son is married, but my third son, ser Aenys, happens to be a widower. I think he'd be glad to remarry, you know? And it might be that your mother can find some happiness again with another man."

Arya looked at her lady mother. This was horrible. Why should she get married again, with a man she didn't love? She would not like it any more than Arya did, surely. But Catelyn was brave and dutiful, and she agreed to the match. She sacrificed herself for Arya, for Robb and for the kingdom of the North.

After that, there were only a few minutes before the bedding, and there was not much talk in her table. Everybody's spirits had lowered considerably after that exchange. However, Arya could hear that Robb whispered to her mother "Don't worry, mother. You won't have to live at The Twins for long, I promise. I shall have a keep built for you in the North, and you will be able to move there with your new husband as soon as it's ready. And you will be near Winterfell, so that you can visit us anytime…"

The Lord of the Crossing interrupted him then and called for the bedding. As the guests undressed the King in the North and his bride, Arya hoped that her brother would remember his promise. Their mother deserved better than that shabby dark castle ruled by that horrible Lord Frey.