Domeric Bolton was convinced that the day King Robert stepped foot in the north he birthed a monstrous curse. First Bran had his fall, then they were all divided and sent on their separate ways, and now, now Arya was missing.

It had been near midday when Domeric finished giving Balthasar a rubdown. After that he sat down a little ways from the old inn in which they were staying. Then he took time to sharpen his sword, the whetstone sliding down the blade made a pleasing sound. But all that was quickly interrupted. Lady Sansa had come racing from the trees. Her cheeks were pink and her hair held twigs and leaves and other things. Her deep blue eyes were all teary and she breathed heavily.

He stood from his spot and slipped his sword into his belt. "My Lady," he began, but then she collapsed into his arms.

"The Prince," She half cried. "The Prince! Oh, my poor Prince Joffrey..."

He had to help her stand. "Sansa, what is it?"

She was able to calm herself, though her voice remained shaky. "P- Prince J- Joffrey. Nymeria bit him..."

Once she had gotten it all out, Domeric took her to Lord Stark. "Arya and the butcher's boy," she had said in a rush. And then she told the tale in full.

A small party had went and collected Joffrey. The boy was an embarrassment to be sure. His whines and squawks had made Domeric bubble with pride at the fact that Arya had hit him. It made him smile just to picture it. Unfortunately, Arya was nowhere to be found. For three days they had searched high and low. Eventually they moved from the inn and into a small Keep just a bit south. But still, there was no trace of Arya.

Lord Stark was so grief stricken that by the second day, he could barely stand, let alone eat. It was now the night of the third day of searching. The entire mobile household of Lord Stark searched and searched. And the lands were filled by men all calling, "Arya!"

By sunset most had returned to the Keep, but a few remained, including Domeric. But when the moon and stars began to peak out in sky, Jory and Domeric had chosen to split up. They had been a pair all day, but that had lead to little progress. He allowed Jory to keep the torch, as the sky was still a bit light, and Domeric never had much issue seeing in the dark anyways.

"Arya!" He called the name over and over again. "Arya!" And as he searched through those deep woods, memories of the hunt came back to him. Domeric tried to push it all away, but it was little use. But soon crickets, which seemed to be in over abundance, eventually gained hid attention as their chirps echoed all around.

But even so, Domeric had never felt so worried. Will you ever be found? Are you dead, my lady? Dead at the bottom of the ruby forge. Or beneath a tree, mayhaps? Maybe wild dogs have already feasted on your body. Why did you have to run away? Your father would have protected you from all harm. As would Jory or any of your father's guard. And me. I would have protected you. You. A little girl lost in a vile land. Other girls would never do such a thing. But you are not like other girls. Arya Stark.

"Arya!" He went about calling for her again. "Arya! Arrryyaaa!"

It was as twigs snapped beneath his feet when Domeric began to wonder if it wasn't King Robert who had brought a curse. Maybe it is I. Well, maybe he hadn't brought a curse, but both Bran's fall and Arya's disappearance were both his fault in all truth. If only he hadn't gone on the hunt, he could have stopped Bran from climbing that damn tower. And he had told Lady Stark that he would keep the girls safe, and he had foolishly ignored that duty.

"Arya, Arya, Arya!" The endless calls began to run together. "Aryaaarya Aryaary!" Sometimes, as he called hopelessly, he wasn't even calling her name. "Aya!" Other times it came out as "Aroa!" or "Ayra!"

He slipped between two trees that had grown close together. Then, in a flash of gray, Domeric found himself flat on his back. Golden eyes looked down at him, glowing like twin fires in the darkening surroundings.

"Nymeria," he said with a sigh. "Never been so happy to see you."

The dire wolf gave him a sniff and climbed off from him. Then, from some unknown place, Domeric heard a voice that made him feel more relieved than ever before.

"Nymeria!" It was Arya. She Came running from the dark in a flash before coming to a halt. "Domeric?"

He pulled himself up and stood. He didn't know what to say. What would Lord Stark do? Hug her? Scold her? No. Domeric could never do that. So he said the only thing that came to mind. "Where have you been?"

Her grey eyes looked downcast as she sucked her bottom lip and dug her heels into the dirt. "I... I was scared. I didn't know what to do."

He took a look at her. She was in rough shape. Her hair was dirty and tangled and knotted, her clothes were torn and filthy. Her face was caked near brown from the three days worth of dirt and whatever else she had gotten into. How strange it was to see a lady, a daughter of a high lord, in such a state.

Immediately Domeric hated himself for beginning in such a way. "Are, are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Are you hungry?"

"I found some berries and things."

"Damn it, Arya," he said before pulling her to him. Her skinny arms went around his middle, and Domeric could feel the tiniest bit of wetness forming on the front of his tunic from Arya's eyes. As they hugged, Domeric began to pick things from Arya's tangled hair. "How did you manage to get bird feathers in your hair?"

She allowed a laugh. "I dunno."

They separated and Domeric said, "Your father has driven himself ill with grief. Lets say we get you back to him?"

For a moment she looked happy, but then that quickly vanished. "No, I can't go back. I'll be punished and the queen will k-..." She looked ready to cry the. "She'll kill Nymeria. Won't she?"

He knew that was true. The precious prince has a boo-boo, now there will be hell to pay.

"What if Nymeria stayed here?"

Arya sat down against a tree and Nymeria lay her head in the girl's lap. "She won't. She'll follow me. And I can't leave her, she needs me."

"But there's all sorts of things she can hunt. She'll be very happy out here." He couldn't believe what he was suggesting. Then he forced himself to lie. "And maybe she'll find her way home... Yes, I think she just might. Nymeria is very smart, she'll probably go back north and find her way back to Winterfell. Then she'll be with Grey Wind and Shaggy and Bran's wolf."

Arya looked at him as if she was skeptical of his words. Then she leaned her head back against the tree's trunk and stated, "You're lying."

"No I-"

"I can always tell when you lie."

He sighed. "Alright. Maybe she won't find her way home. But she can live a long life out here."

Arya's fingers weaved through Nymeria's thick fur. "And If Nymeria stays with me, Cersei will kill her?"

Lying would bring nothing good. "The Lannisters are not ones for mercy."

Arya buried her face in Nymeria's fur for perhaps the last time. Then she kissed the wolf, stood and walked to Domeric, Nymeria followed.

"No, Nymeria. Stay."

Nymeria didn't stay.

"Nymeria," Said Arya, eyes going teary. "Stay."

Arya wiped her eyes and they walked a bit. Nymeria followed closely.

"No!" Arya was now shaking. "You stay!"

Nymeria sat at Arya's feet and looked up with big eyes.

"Bad wolf!" He voice cracked as she yelled. "Just, just go! Go!"

Arya then pushed the wolf away and tossed a nearby rock at her.

"Arya," said Domeric, reaching for the second rock in Arya's hand. "Let me do this."

"No," she said. "I'll do it!" She launch the rock, hitting Nymeria in the jaw.

The wolf yelped and whined and tried to run to Arya, but Arya toss another rock, hitting the wolf again. Nymeria cried out and ran someways, but then turned back to Arya. In the wolf's golden eyes was hurt, and the look of someone betrayed.

"Go away!" Screamed Arya, tossing a final rock and falling to her knees.

Nymeria left.

Domeric kneeled next to Arya and gently placed his hand on her back. He could hear soft sniffles. "You did well."

In nothing more than a hopeless whisper, she muttered, "I'd like to see my father now."

They walked side by side for a time. No conversations were traded, nor was anything but silence. As they went, the woods seemed fake somehow. As if it was all just a dream. The trees seemed faded and the darkening sky seemed nonexistent. Maybe it is all a dream, he wondered. Maybe nothing is real.

Then, drawing him from his thoughts, Arya said in a small voice, "I'm too tired to walk."

Domeric lowered himself to Arya's level. She put her arms around his neck and he lifted her up. Arya tucked her face into Domeric's chest, and he held her close.

"Come along, little lady."

He carried her through the woods, and then Jory could be seen. The household guard had a look of relief as he saw them, but Domeric held a finger to his lips, so that conversation would not disturb the girl in his arms from what little peace she would have that night.

The walk back to the Keep was a silent one. The only noise being that of leaves and things crunching beneath boots. Still, things seemed hopeful. Arya would be reunited with her father, and the whole business could be put behind them. But as they entered through Ser Raymun's castle's gates, things proved to go wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

The guards on duty were Lannister men. Vile, villainous Lannister men doing the bidding of their monstrous Queen.

They all seemed to leer at them as three guards in red cloaks circled. One stepped up to them. "A Bolton, isn't it?"

Domeric set Arya on her feet. Then the girl stepped foreword and glared at the guard. "What's it to you?"

The man chuckled. "This one aint what I expected. All feisty. Doesn't even look like a girl. More of a skinny little boy."

Domeric bit his lip as the other guards all laughed. But then, Jory drew his sword. "Back away. This is the daughter of Lord Stark."

"Oh," Said the guard. "I'm well aware. Queen Cersie's been lookin' for this one. Now, put away that sword before you cut yerself, Northerner."

Two other guards stepped forward.

"Jory," Said Arya. "Get my Father."

Jory looked conflicted, but he did so anyways. He put his sword away and ran off to Lord Stark's rooms.

"Take the girl," ordered the head guard.

Domeric stepped in front of Arya, but he was shoved back by a guardsman.

"Domeric!" Yelled Arya as another grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder..

Domeric ran back to her, but then he felt his face crumple as the steel encrusted hand of a Lannister guard struck him, sending him to the ground. He moaned as his hands covered his face. But It seemed that Arya had managed to slip from the man's grasp, as she came racing to him. She knelt beside him.

"Are you alright?" Her little hands tried to pry his away, but it was to no avail. "Let me see," she insisted.

Domeric let his face show. He felt numb and cold and almost dizzy. But then he began to gag as he tasted blood flooding his throat.

Arya ripped her cloak and held a piece of it to his nose. "Take it," she ordered. "And sit up."

He spat a clump of red spit as he came to his feet. "She stays with me," he said to the guards, though he doubted that he sounded very frightening, considering the circumstances.

"You wanna loose your entire face, boy?" The man who had struck him raised his hand again.

"Let it be," Said another. "Unhappy Stark, unhappy King Robert." With that he spun around, red cloak billowing behind him. Then he called over his shoulder, "Bring 'em both."

They were marched into the castle. Then into Ser Raymun's audience chamber, where the King and Queen and Prince and a whole mess of others were. It was odd how all these people were already seated and ready, as if they had been prepared for such. From the crowd, Domeric picked out Lord Renly, king Robert's young brother. He was a recent arrival, only meeting with the party earlier in the day.

After some time, Domeric's nose stopped bleeding, though the pain remained. Now he and Arya stood alone in the center of the room, but my hand remained on her shoulder, as if it would somehow keep her safe from the wrath that was to come. King Robert was slouched in Ser Raymun's chair, never before had a man looked so bored. By the King's side stood the Queen, who glared at Arya with all the pleasantries of an executioner. By the Queen's side was Joffrey, the little prick.

Then a newcomer entered the chamber. In a relieved voice, Lord Stark's voice carried over from the doors. "Arya."

It was only then that I took my hand from her shoulder. She spun around and ran to her father and they hugged and Lord Stark kissed her. The words, "I'm sorry," could be heard in muffled voice.

When the embrace ended, Lord Stark kept Arya close and came to my side at the chamber's center. His hand then came to my chin, and he lifted my face so the he could examine the damage that had been done. Then his hand rested on my shoulder and I felt a squeeze.

"What has possessed you," Said Lord Stark at the front of the room, though it was unclear to whom his harsh tone was directed. "My missing daughter was not brought to me. Instead, I find her dragged before a crowd, cold and hungry, and that my ward has been wounded."

The Queen's voice was like the mashing of iron teeth. "Watch your tongue, Stark. How dare you speak to-"

"Quiet, woman! I'm sorry Ned," Said the king with the wave of a hand. "None Of this was my intention. Just wanted to get the damn commotion over with."

Lord Stark's eyes narrowed. "Commotion?"

"We all know the truth of it," declared the Queen. "Your daughter and that butchers boy attacked their prince, then that beast tried to take his arm off."

"No we didn't!" After Shouting such, Arya looked down at her feet as if she had done something wrong. "I mean, Nymeria only bit him. He started it..."

"Do not spew such lies," Said the Queen, making Domeric's blood boil. Do not speak to her in such ways, he thought.

"You assaulted him," continued the Queen. "Joff has told us the truth of the matter."

"No," Said Arya, her voice sounded weak. "None of that's true..."

"It is! She and her two mongrels attacked me! They planned it all," proclaimed Joffrey.

Arya stepped forward. "No!"

"Don't command me, girl!"

The King seemed to have enough. "Quiet!" He bellowed, slamming his fist on his armrest. And everyone did indeed go quiet. His blue eyes looked straight at Arya. "Tell it true. All of it. It's a grave crime to lie to a king, remember that."

"But," started Joffrey in his screeching voice.

"You'll have your chance to speak after. Now, girl, tell it truthfully."

"I was playing with Mycah," started Arya. "We were using sticks, pretending they were swords. Then Sansa and Joffrey-"

"Prince Joffrey," Said the Queen.

"Sansa and Prince Joffrey came. They were drinking wine, I think-"

Queen Cersei gave a small laugh. "You think?"

King Robert gave a silencing glare.

"Prince Joffrey held his blade to Mycah's cheek. And he made fun of him and said that Mycah had to duel him, only J- Prince Joffrey had a sword and Mycah had a stick, and I tried to stop him, but no one would listen. I- I was scared that the Prince would kill Mycah, he wouldn't stop, so I hit him... and then he attacked me. I thought he was gonna kill me, but then Nymeria bit Joffrey, then I tossed Lion's Tooth away..."

There was silence for a moment. But then a laugh came from the side. Lord Renly looked most amused. "Lion's Tooth?" He shook his head.

The King, who was not as amused as his brother, ordered Lord Renly away. The younger Baratheon gave no argument, only a comment or two. And mentioned to Joffrey that he'd enjoy to hear about his deadly duel with a little girl. But as Renly left the chamber, Vayon Poole entered, and at his side was Lady Sansa.

Now it was Joffrey's turn. He told a drastically different tale. It seemed that Arya and the butcher's boy had possibly planned an attempt on his life for no reason other than carelessness and sickening amusement.

King Robert sighed. "This has yielded nothing. What am I to say? Hmm?"

"There was another who saw what happened. Sansa," called Lord Stark. "Come."

As Sansa Came to the room's center, Domeric felt relieved. He knew Sansa wouldn't lie, and the story she had told before matched Arya's. But things did not go as he had hoped.

"I don't know..." Sansa looked around nervously. "I- It happened so fast... I don't remember."

But before anything else could be said, Arya tackled Sansa to the floor, shouting, "Liar! Liar!"

"Arya!" Lord Stark Had Shouted, reaching for Arya before she attacked her sister, but he had been to slow.

Domeric tried to pull Arya up, but he too fell to the floor. Luckily, Jory was able to snatch up Arya, though her fists still flailed. After picking himself up, Domeric pulled a shocked Lady Sansa to her feet.

"Beast," proclaimed the queen. "She is a beast. I want her punished."

"Come off it woman," Said Robert. "What do you want? Her whipped bloody? She's a child. It's over."

"Your son will carry those scars for the rest of his life!"

"So be it." Then the King stood and began to walk from his chair. Coming close to them, he said "I'll discipline my son, you do the same, Ned."

"Of course, your grace."

The Queen glared at her husband. "And of the beast?"

"Gone," spoke Domeric. "Nymeria has left for the wilderness."

Jory nodded. "There is no trace of her, your grace."

King Robert shrugged. "Then it is done."

With a smugness Domeric had never before seen, the Queen announced, "We have another."

"Robert," said Lord Stark. "No..."

The king shook his head. "So be it." And with that, the king left for the doors.

Sansa began to shake. Domeric pulled her close to himself, but it was no use. She slipped from his grip. "No... No! Not Lady! She's good!"

"Lady didn't bite anyone!" Joined in Arya.

"Robert! My king, do not do this." That was the first time Domeric heard Lord Stark beg. "Please."

The King looked divided, but then he muttered, "Damn it, Cersei."

"Robert," said Lord Stark. "Will you do the deed? Or do you lack the courage to swing the sword which you have ordered to take a life? Your Grace."

The King was silent. He blinked once, then turned and left the chamber.

Joffrey was smiling sickly as it all played out. Then Cersei, in a pleased voice, called, "Ser Illyn, see to the wolf."

"No," Said Lord Stark. "I will do it."

"Is this a trick?" Her voice sounded humored. "If so, I must say you are terribly foolish to think it'll work."

"It is no trick. The wolf deserves better than your butcher. She is of the north."

The Queen laughed cruelly. "So be it, my lord."

Thanks, and hope everyone is still enjoying.