Arya
"Wait! What about Sansa? What happens if no one finds Joffrey or if he's already dead?"
"I fear there is nothing that can be done for your sister. It matters not at all. I have no doubt your mother and King Robb will do everything that they can to get her back. I understand that her fate matters a great deal to them." Lord Bolton's probably right, just like he is about everything else.
"Can I see the Kingslayer?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"I just...wanted to see a Lannister taken prisoner for once is all."
"Very well. Tell me, how would you like to throw a few stones at him?"
"Stones? What do you mean?"
"Yes. Stones. Or food, if you wish. You would enjoy it a great deal, I think."
"I guess so, only..."
"Yes?"
"Are you sure?"
"You should aim for his head, I think. Oh and one more thing, you will throw the first one as soon as I tell him about his sister and not a moment earlier. Is that understood?"
"Yes! I mean...yes, my Lord. And I won't miss his stupid head either!"
"See that you don't."
...
"Lord Bolton, allow me to present you with a small gift. I give you the Kingslayer and his...traveling companion, or if you prefer m'Lord, the Bear and the Maiden Fair," announced Locke. "Course you'll have to decide fer yourself which is which," he added with a smug grin, as he forced his prisoners to their knees. Traveling companion? Arya liked the woman – and it was indeed a woman – who had been taken prisoner alongside the Kingslayer the moment she saw her. The woman was larger than any of her captors and she was wearing armor instead of a dress. She probably had nothing to do with the stupid Kingslayer. Lord Bolton might even let her go and...no, that's stupid. Locke already said she was traveling with the Kingslayer. Lord Bolton will give her to Qyburn, most like, Arya thought to herself sadly as she gathered several small stones from the ground.
Lord Bolton probably won't let her go even if I ask him to, but I have to try. No! Mercy is for the weak! I am not weak. I am a direwolf. I won't ask him to let her live, but maybe he'll let her have a clean death...maybe. Father said... It doesn't matter what father said. Father, he...he said a lot of things and the Lannisters took his head off all the same. Lord Bolton said mercy is for the weak and he's still alive. When winter comes, the pack dies and only the lone wolf survives. I am a lone wolf...just like Lord Bolton.
The Kingslayer didn't look anything like the man who had visited Winterfell years ago. He was beaten, battered, and broken. He wore no armor and was as thin as a twig. If I bend one of his arms, will it snap off? No, that's stupid. This isn't the Kingslayer, Arya decided. He's too weak and his face is all wrong besides. The man had green eyes, to be sure, but they were the sad, lonely eyes of a man who had lost all he had ever been and all that he ever would be. There was no sign of the chiseled jaw that Sansa had once spent nearly an hour babbling about, only a thick beard that had more knots than Arya's hair. There was a rotting hand hanging from a string around the man's neck. That was also wrong. The Kingslayer had two hands when he visited Winterfell.
"Locke."
"Yes, m'Lord?"
"Why is the Kingslayer's hand hanging from his neck?" That's him? That's really the Kingslayer? If Lord Bolton says it's the Kingslayer then maybe... Good! I'm glad it's him! I wish I was there when they cut off his stupid hand. I wouldn't have looked away; that's what Sansa would've done. I won't look away when the Lannisters and their men are killed. Never! I am a direwolf and I'm not afraid. Tywin Lannister, Joffrey, and the rest of the stupid Lannisters are the ones who should be afraid. Soon Robb and Lord Bolton will kill them all, every one. Robb will kill Stannis too, most like. Even if he doesn't want me back, he won't stop fighting until Sansa's safe. It's not Sansa's fault that mother and Robb only care what happens to her...not really.
"To remind the Kingslayer of his place, m'Lord. He's just some golden-haired little shit who wouldn't be anything without that hand and his –"
"Get that thing out of my sight before I have your tongue out."
"Yes, m'Lord," replied Locke as he yanked away the Kingslayer's hand and tossed it off to the side.
"I am Lord Roose of House Bolton. The two of you may rise; you are both under my protection." Lord Bolton won't protect them...not really. He'll say he's withdrawn his protection as soon as he's ready to punish the Kingslayer. I know he will! He's just playing with them is all.
"Thank you, my Lord," muttered the woman. "Lady Catelyn has ordered me to bring the Kingslayer to King's Landing and exchange him for her daughters." Mother wouldn't do that! Arya opened her mouth to call the strange woman a liar, but closed it before uttering a single word. Lord Bolton will be wroth with me if I say anything right now. And he won't believe her stupid old Lannister lies besides. Even if she is a liar, I don't want him to hurt her...not really. No matter how hard she tried, Arya found that he could not bring herself to hate the woman. There was something about the way she spoke and carried herself that was distinctly different from any Lannister soldier that the lone wolf had ever seen. The prisoner plainly lacked the arrogance, cruelty, and low-cunning that the Lannister seemed to expect from those who served them.
"And who might you be, my Lady" asked the Lord of the Dreadfort mildly. His expressionless features were as menacing as a single shark fin racing toward a castaway.
"I am Brienne of Tarth, daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth," replied the woman. Arya smiled sadly at the way Brienne winced the moment the words "my Lady" left Lord Bolton's mouth. She never wanted to be a boring, old Lady either and didn't let anyone make her one...not her mother, not her father, and not whatever stupid Lord they probably tried to force her to marry. Arya smiled – happily this time – as she tried to imagine how Catelyn would have reacted to the sight of her youngest daughter wearing armor.
"Curious. I was never told of any such agreement. Mayhaps Qyburn simply misplaced the raven. I did hear that your father declared for Joffrey Lannister once Renly Baratheon was slain. Forgive me, I fear my memory isn't what it once was; that was before you have helped the Kingslayer escape, was it not?"
"I swore to serve and protect Lady Catelyn and no one else. I swear upon my honor that she –"
"Yes, yes, yes, she told you to bring the Kingslayer to the capitol and exchange him for her daughters. And there's no need for any vows, my Lady. Your honor matters not at all." Something changed in Brienne's face after that remark and she no longer looked quite as tall. "Now then, Lady Catelyn trusted you, the daughter of a Lord sworn to serve the man who had her husband executed, to return the Kingslayer to the Lannisters. I wonder, why would she trust you with such an important task?" She wouldn't! It's just some stupid Lannister lie...
"The beast before you may be many things, but I assure you that she is not a liar, my Lord. Lady Catelyn freed me just as she said. The woman loves her daughters near as much as Cersei loves her children. She put aside her hatred and freed me even after I told her that I pushed her son out of –" Four stones flew through the air and hit the Kingslayer in the face. He stumbled backward in surprise, slipped, and fell to the ground. The once proud lion hit his head on a large rock and – after a grunt of pain – became as silent as a shadow. Lord Bolton won't care that I threw the stones early...not really. The Kingslayer's still breathing, Arya realized with a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.
Locke started laughing, Brienne was plainly confused more than anything else, and for once Lord Bolton made no effort to hide his thoughts. For the three seconds that he stared at Arya, his face was an open book. He's disappointed in me because I threw the stones too early. He's not angry; he just...he trusted me and I... I can't even tell him that I didn't mean to do it, not with other people around. Who cares when I threw the stones? They're just stupid rocks. I didn't miss either, not even once. And it was the stupid Kingslayer's fault besides. I didn't want to throw the stones before Lord Bolton told him about his brother and sister, but he said that he pushed Bran out the window at Winterfell and...it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Lord Bolton needed me to wait and I didn't. That was stupid!
Lord Bolton will never hate me, but I can't let him down like that ever again. If I do, he'll never bring me back to the Dreadfort with him...not even if Robb and mother agree to it. They probably don't even care where I live as long as its not Winterfell, Arya thought to herself, biting her lip. I won't disappoint Lord Bolton ever again! He'll see! The next time he tells me to do something I don't want to do, I'll do it anyway. And I won't argue with him either. He'll forgive me, I know he will! He has to, he...he's my best friend; he's the only friend I'll ever have for the rest of my life, most like. I'll never see Jon again and he's probably dead besides. Lord Bolton is the only person left who still cares about me. I can't lose him! I won't disappoint him again! Never!
It wouldn't be so bad to live at the Dreadfort...not really. It's in the North and Lord Bolton will bring me with him whenever he visits Winterfell if I ask him to, I know he will! The Boltons just call their the Dreadfort to scare people, most like. It can't be too different from Winterfell. Lord Bolton said he thought his son Domeric would like me and if I'm nice to his baseborn son then Ramsay will probably take me with him whenever he goes hunting. He also said his trueborn son was only a few years older than me, so Domeric might even want to have swordfights in the Godswood like Bran and I did at Winterfell. I bet Lord Bolton would even let us use tourney swords instead of tree branches! There have to be servants at the Dreadfort too and the ones at Winterfell were always nice to me. Maybe I will have other friends, after all...maybe. Winterfell is my home, but the Dreadfort...it...it could me my home. I could be happy there and I'd be with people who cared about me. Lord Bolton said none of his kin would care whether or not I wanted to be a proper Lady, so they'd never try to change me. I'd be safe too. The Boltons would never let someone like Theon Greyjoy burn down the Dreadfort, I know they wouldn't! No! I can't live there, it...it doesn't matter how happy I'd be at the Dreadfort...not really. I have a family and they'll always be my family, even if they hate me. If I was at the Dreadfort again, I'd never see mother, Robb or Sansa again and...and it would probably make them happier than anything that I could ever do for them.
It will be better for everyone if I go back to the Dreadfort with Lord Bolton and live there. Sansa, mother, and Robb will all be happier that way. The Boltons can be my family; they actually care about me...or they will once they've all met me. Lord Bolton already cares about me more than mother and Robb do; he's the only left who'd even notice if I died. The next time he asks me to do something he knows I don't want to do, I'll do it! Soon Lord Bolton will be proud of me again and after he's forgiven me for throwing the stupid stones too early, I'll ask mother and Robb to let me live at the Dreadfort.
"I fear any further conversation shall have to wait until our guest awakens from his slumber. The Kingslayer's journey has left him quite tired, I think," said Lord Bolton in a voice as soft as a whisper. "Once Qyburn has treated his injuries, I want him placed in a cell."
"Yes, m'Lord," replied Locke.
"My Lord, Lady Catelyn has –"
"Tell me, Lady Brienne, after Lady Catelyn freed the Kingslayer and told you to bring him to the capitol, did you encounter any Northmen?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Soldiers?"
"Yes, three of them, but –"
"And I trust they let you pass unmolested since you were instructed to deliver the Kingslayer to the capitol by Lady Catelyn herself."
"No, my Lord. They tried to take us prisoner," muttered Brienne, her face darkening as what had always been plain to everyone else in the courtyard slowly began to dawn on her. At least give her a clean death... The Lord of the Dreadfort glanced at Arya for a moment and his lips twisted into a thin smile. Is he doing this to punish me? She bit her lip when she noticed the way that he was looking at Brienne. He's going to give her to Qyburn.
"And yet here you stand. Tell me, Lady Brienne, why is that? Did these soldiers let you pass once you explained the situation to them? It was nothing more than a simple misunderstanding, is that what you would have me believe, my Lady?" Stop calling her that, she hates it. Please, I'm sorry! I really am! Stop dragging it out! She still doesn't understand, Arya realized.
"No, my Lord. They attacked us and I was forced to kill them, but I swear on my honor that –"
"I see. It matters not at all. As I said, your honor means nothing to me. Do you have anything of value to swear upon?"
"My Lord, I –"
"Gold? A prisoner whose life I care about? Mayhaps a new title? Surely you at least have lands that you can grant me, do you not?" I'm sorry, I...please forgive me! I'm so sorry for whatever he's going to do. I wanted him to hurt the Kingslayer, not you. I'm sorry, I...
"No."
"No? Is that all?"
"No, my Lord," Brienne seethed.
"I see. Pity. In that case, I fear you are worth nothing to me, my Lady. Lord Urswyck."
"Yes, m'Lord?"
"When was your last fed?"
"A day and a half ago, m'Lord."
"Good. This woman's father declared for Joffrey Lannister after Renly Baratheon died and I fear that actions have consequences. Strip her of her armor, dress her in rags, and throw her in the bear pit. Make a deep cut in her chest so that the bear will be drawn to the blood, but see to it that you do not kill her. If you do, then I fear you will force me to have you thrown to your death in her place."
"Yes, m'Lord." Brienne screamed and struggled, but there were too many soldiers. Arya wanted to beg Lord Bolton to make his men stop, but she knew that he'd be even more wroth with her if she did that.
"Girl," said the Lord of the Dreadfort, motioning for Arya to come closer.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Wait for me inside. I will speak with you alone about your behavior momentarily."
"Yes, my Lord...I mean...yes, m'Lord," replied Arya nervously as it dawned on her that she was about to receive a "sharp lesson."
...
This is all my fault, if I hadn't thrown those stupid stones... No! I...I have to be strong. Lord Bolton said mercy is for the weak. I am not weak. I am a direwolf. He's going to make me watch, Arya realized as the Lord of the Dreadfort slowly approached her. It's going to happen either way, but at least if I ask him then maybe...
"My Lord, could...I mean...can I watch," asked Arya, hoping she didn't sound as miserable as she felt. Lord Bolton's cold, passive expression slid off like a mask the moment he heard her words. For a moment, his face was a mixture of pride, surprise, and genuine happiness. Arya shuddered. The Lord of the Dreadfort was looking at her like a mother whose newborn babe had just spoken its first word and somehow it was near as terrifying as Qyburn.
"You want to watch Lord Urswyck's bear eat that woman? Are you quite certain? I thought you might be fond of her." I knew it! He was punishing me! Maybe now he'll give her a clean death and find some other way. At least...at least he's proud of me again.
"I am...I mean...I was, my Lord. I hoped you'd give her a clean death, even if she does serve the Lannisters, but you wouldn't throw her in bear pit unless she deserved it and we shouldn't feel bad about justice being done. You said we should enjoy it, even if it seems harsh."
"As you say. And you truly believe that you would enjoy watching a defenseless woman get eaten alive by a bear? You would consider that justice?" It was so unusual to see the Lord of the Dreadfort look this happy that Arya had to keep reminding herself that it was still him and not an energetic child.
"Yes, my Lord," replied Arya nervously. It's too late to change my mind. If I made him this happy and he finds out I'm lying, he'll never forgive me. I don't know why he cares so much whether I want to watch him feed that poor woman to a bear, but he can be very strange sometimes. I have to watch now, unless...
"Lord Bolton?"
"Yes?"
"If she is a Lord's daughter, maybe...couldn't you just...I mean...isn't it dangerous to play with important prisoners. Their families might try to get revenge."
"Clever girl. Fortunately, Lord Selwyn Tarth lives in the Stormlands and lacks the wealth to pay a large ransom. His reach does not extend nearly this far North, I think. Of course, you are quite right; a wise man does not antagonize valuable prisoners. My bastard could learn a great deal from you, I think." Arya couldn't help smiling at that remark. I'm glad Lord Bolton's forgiven me; he likes me even more than he did before I threw the stones, most like. I just...I just wish it wasn't because of something horrible is all. The Lord of the Dreadfort mussed her hair and Arya's smile grew even wider. Whenever he did that, she couldn't stay sad...not really. It reminded her that there was still someone left who cared about her...no matter what she had done. It also reminded her of Jon. "You must always remember that there is no shame in enjoying such things, no matter how often you are forced to pretend you do not for the benefit of fools like your brother. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good. In that case, of course you may watch. I am very proud of you. Prouder than I have ever been of my bastard, I think. I trust you won't look away until it is over."
"No, my Lord. I want to watch! I really do!" It's going to happen anyway and if it's the only way to get to the Dreadfort... I won't look away, not even once.
"I know you do." Suddenly, the joy vanished from Lord Bolton's face and he looked as though he were extremely frustrated by something.
"Is something wrong, my Lord?"
"When I told you that if the day ever came –"
"Can I live with your family at the Dreadfort?"
"What?"
"You said there would always be a place for me there. You said –"
"I did and you shall always be welcome there. You must needs ask your mother and King Robb, I think. We shall ride for Riverrun tomorrow, so you will see both of them soon enough. If they consent then I have no objection. When you do, be sure to tell them that it was your idea. Your mother will prefer hearing it that way, I think."
"Riverrun? We are? I mean...I will! They won't even care! I know they won't," shouted Arya. The excitement was too much and she couldn't even decide which thing to be happy about first.
"As you say." Arya ran over to hug the Lord of the Dreadfort, but pulled her arms away just in time upon remembering how much he hated being touched.
"No, it's...fine," grumbled Lord Bolton, looking more and more miserable with each passing second.
"But you said it makes people weak."
"No, I meant...it's just...I don't mind. I have...decided that you are free to...do that to me if you wish. Go on. Do it if you must."
"You don't look like you're okay with it."
"As I said, I oft find myself thinking of you as though you were my kin. In truth, I feel as though I have gained a daughter of sorts. If you truly find such...behavior comforting then I fear I shall be forced to indulge it for your sake. You will grow out of it soon enough, I think. Until then, if doing...that to me makes you happy then I must needs suffer it for the moment. I fear such things are expected of me," seethed the Lord of the Dreadfort through clenched teeth. "If Domeric asks me again when I ever sacrificed –"
"You...I...I don't understand. You hate it, but you'll let me because it might make me feel better? You...you actually care about me that much? But no one...I mean...no one who is alive would ever... And I'm like a...you care...as much as you do about...about your own children? Really? Are you sure?" For once, Arya's tears were borne not from grief, but from happiness. He may not be a Stark, but he's treating me better than mother or Robb ever would. He's as much my family as they are, Arya decided.
"Yes," replied Lord Bolton. The word had barely left his mouth when Arya leapt into the air and hugged him the way she had hugged Jon after he gave her Needle. The Lord of the Dreadfort simply stood still, looking down in painful confusion at the 12 year-old girl wrapped around him like a straight-jacket. Lord Bolton coughed loudly as if to signal that he wanted to be released. Finally, resigned to the fact that the child was not going to stop clinging to him until she was good and ready, Lord Bolton awkwardly placed his arms ever so slightly on top of her back, but Arya didn't notice his muddled attempt to return her hug anymore than she had his coughing. She simply continued to hug the Lord of the Dreadfort as tightly as she could, closed her eyes, and smiled, secure in the knowledge that the worst days of her life would soon be over.
...
The fight was over before it began and Arya was grateful for that, if little else about sick game. It's Lord Urswyck's bear, not Lord Bolton's bear. It's all Lord Urswyck's fault. Lord Bolton wouldn't have done it if I hadn't thrown the stones early. None of this is Lord Bolton's fault. He's only punishing me because I forced him to; he doesn't enjoy watching this anymore than I do. It's not his fault! It was all stupid Lord Urswyck! Arya silently repeated the words over and over again until she truly believed every one of them with all her heart.
Within minutes, Brienne had stopped screaming and the bear was ripping something pink out of her belly. Arya glanced at the Lord of the Dreadfort and he nodded at her approvingly. I didn't look away, not even once. I'll never have to see or do anything like this ever again. I'm finally going home. Maybe to the home where I always belonged...maybe. I'll see mother and Robb one last time and then...then I'll never lose anyone ever again. No one will make fun of me or call me "Arya horseface" again either. I'll be safe for the rest of my life with people who care about me and who will never try to change me.