Robb

"Is this some sort of joke?"

"No, my lord."

"I'm to marry Cersei Lannister's daughter?"

"That is what the letter says."

Robb could only gape, open-mouthed, at Maester Luwin. "She's-she's a bastard. Born of incest. And my mother would have me marry her?"

"I don't believe she had much of a choice. From what I've heard, the girl is sweet-natured. Not at all like her mother."

"But I don't even know her." He looked around, mind reeling. He wanted to marry for love, not get married for political reasons to some girl he had never seriously spoken to.

"Your mother and father were strangers when they wed," Maester Luwin said wisely. "And they grew to love each other very much."

"Neither of them is a Lannister," said Robb with distaste.

"Family names aren't everything."

Robb sighed. "Is she coming to Winterfell, then?"

"Well, I imagine she will for the wedding."

Robb looked up sharply. "The wedding? Already? She's not of marrying age yet."

"Lord Tywin seems determined to get it done."

Robb felt an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "So how long, then?"

"Well, it's four days until the king's wedding, and they'll want the excitement of that to have died down. Maybe a month?"

"A month?"

"Most likely. Your mother, brother, and sister will be returning to Winterfell. We'll probably wait at least until then."

"So a month from now, I'll be a married man?"

"It would appear so."

He sat down and shook his head. "Where did everything go so wrong?" He knew where, of course. The minute his father had decided to leave Winterfell. Arya had told him, at the feast, before she had told him her secret, told him that their father shouldn't go to the capital. It hadn't led to his death, this time, but it had led to this. So he would marry a perfect stranger, a girl from a family he despised, because it was the better alternative to the death and destruction Arya had promised otherwise awaited them.

Sansa

She stood still for a moment, making sure she had heard her father correctly. "Robb is marrying Myrcella?"

He nodded, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I knew it. I knew it was a bad idea. What was Arya thinking?"

"Arya?" He frowned. "Arya's just a girl, it was your mother who made this decision."

Sansa shook her head. "Mother was just going along with Arya's plan, I know it. Mother would never have come up with the idea to try and assassinate Tywin Lannister, because it's quite possibly the worst idea in history." She was being hard on Arya, but she had known it couldn't end well. They were supposed to be working together, but they were in different parts of the continent, with entirely different plans they had no real way to communicate.

"We don't know exactly what happened, Sansa."

"I do."

"How?"

She looked at him. She couldn't tell him everything right now, not the day of the king's wedding. "I know my sister," she said plainly.

"Alright. Well, I suppose we have a different wedding to be getting ready for now."

"Yes. A royal wedding. How exciting."

"You and I have different definitions of exciting."

She laughed. "I didn't mean it."

"Really? I would have thought this was just the sort of the thing you'd be interested in."

"Maybe once," Sansa said. "Things are different now."

She left the room to get ready for the wedding.

Everyone clapped as King Robert and Queen Margaery exchanged their vows. Sansa did her best to feign interest, but she had other things to think about. Like Robb marrying Myrcella. She barely remembered the princess from the first time she had been here, but she seemed a nice enough girl, if a bit timid and shy, which certainly wouldn't appeal to Robb. It was far from an ideal match. But it was what it was, she figured. At least this would give them a tenuous alliance with the Lannisters, which was better than having them as enemies. But Robb had to go through with this wedding. He couldn't break his deal like he had before. She couldn't lose him again. Or Mother. Or anyone. They had risked everything for this trip through time, and now she was terrified of it all failing anyway.

When they headed to the reception, she took her seat beside her father, and tried not to think about the last royal wedding she had been to. She had liked watching Joffrey die, sick as it was to say, but the rest of the affair had been horrible. Everything about her life in the capital had been horrible. Luckily, Robert was not his so-called son, and the affair was standard and boring, without any twisted entertainment. Now there was a new queen, and as much as she might distrust Queen Margaery, and her house, she certainly felt better with her by Robert's side than Cersei. When King Robert made a joke about the upcoming bedding ceremony, Sansa couldn't help but think of her own wedding. Lord Tyrion had chosen to not have the bedding ceremony, had refused to force her into his bed. She had been so frightened of him, but he had been kind. Most men would have done it, even if they didn't really want to, would have done what was expected of them with a bride of only fourteen. But Tyrion hadn't, and for that she would always be grateful, even if now he would never remember it. He was the superior of her two husbands, that was for sure. Though the standards for that were slim indeed.

As she ate some delicious chicken, she noticed that her father looked distracted. "Father?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there something on your mind?"

"No." He was lying, she could see that, but she didn't press the matter any further. She was keeping her share of secrets from him. And for far too long. She would tell him tomorrow, she decided. After the wedding festivities had died down. She had to do it, even though she feared it, feared how she was going to tell him, what information she would let him know.

The king was drunk, Sansa realized quickly, drunk and starting to make a terrible scene. She exchanged a glance with her father, who got up just as King Robert was beginning a rant about Cersei. He walked up to the king and whispered something in his ear, and Sansa sighed in relief as he escorted him away from the wedding. Then it was just her, alone at the table, surrounded by the lords and ladies of the court.

Queen Margaery sat beside her. "Hello there."

She looked up and smiled. "Your Grace. Congratulations on the wedding."

"Thank you. It's always been a bit of a dream of mine to be the queen."

"It used to be a dream of mine as well," said Sansa. "But I'm very glad I didn't marry Joffrey."

Margaery smiled. "Yes, that would have been terrible indeed. But I hear that your brother is to wed Joffrey's sister."

Sansa nodded. "He is. It was an important step towards building an alliance with House Lannister."

"To prevent a war."

"To prevent a war," Sansa agreed.

"Myrcella's a sweet girl," Margaery said. "I think it'll be alright."

"I hope so," said Sansa.

Her father returned with the king then, and the bedding ceremony commenced. Sansa couldn't help but feel bad for the new queen; Robert was a very distasteful man. "Did you talk him down?" she asked her father.

"As much as I could."

"Hopefully this marriage will go better than his last."

"Hopefully," he agreed. "At least he chose Margaery on his own. Marrying Cersei was Jon Arryn's idea."

"I thought he was smart," said Sansa.

Her father smiled wryly at that. "It was a good move, politically. But Robert would never be happy with any wife that wasn't your aunt."

She looked at him sharply. He almost never spoke of her aunt. "Would she have been happy with him?"

He gave her a long look. "No," he said. "She wouldn't have."

"Will Margaery?"

"I don't know the new queen," said her father. "I couldn't say."

Sansa hoped she would be; for her sake, as well as the kingdom's. And their family's.

Arya

Arya dismounted her horse with relief as they finally went back through the gates of Riverrun, back to relative safety. Beside her, her mother did the same in silence. She hadn't spoken much since Arya had told her about the Red Wedding, about Robb's death. She found herself wishing she hadn't said anything. But the warning had been necessary.

When they entered the castle, Uncle Edmure and Bran stood waiting for them. When she saw her brother, Arya found herself unable to hold back, and she ran at him, throwing her arms around him. "It's good to see you," she said.

"You too," he replied, sounding bewildered.

As soon as she let go of her brother, her mother had her arms around him. "I'm glad you made it safely," she said.

"I'm fine," said Bran. "Still don't know why Father made me leave."

"It was for the best," said Catelyn.

"Hmm." Only then did Arya realize that something was off with Bran. Knowing what had happened to him before, that concerned her.

They went to their rooms to unpack, but Arya waited until she was alone and walked over to Bran's room. When she knocked on the door, there was no reply, so she pushed it open.

Bran was sitting at the table, drawing something, but he looked up when she entered. "What did you do, Arya?"

"Sorry?"

"What did you do to time?"