Scene 2: The Red Lannister Regard

And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that is all the truth I know.

-Rains of Castamere, a Lannister Song

Catelyn

A cool breeze swayed in from the west through the Iron mountains along the long veranda window fused to the tall, smooth walls of the Frey Castle, the long encampment of many hundred small fires surrounded the camp into the night beyond her down the fields; Stark and Frey mingling below in the revelry of the day that was coming to an end. The sky was starless tonight, mostly cloudy and promising only bitter rain. She turned from the railing off the castle wall, coming into the warmer room within, Catelyn Stark, the widowed Lady of Winterfell, decided to wear black on the day of her brother's wedding. Edmure had finally found himself a wife after years of fooling about while the Blackfish had held the Riverlands down, thankfully the Freys had accepted their agreement so hastily put together in the last few days, things could have gotten much more complicated otherwise.

Her dark, silk robe lined in fur hugging her shoulders against the rising cool over the marshes, Cat's outer coat pulled close and buttoned up around her chest. She straightened, the mirror before she revealed a youth coming to a twilight end, soon to dry up completely, I never could give you another child, my love. She wailed within, but stifled those thoughts at once, not now; you must be strong, for Robb, she reminded herself. Steadying herself as her handmaiden sat busy needling something behind Catelyn as she readied herself wordlessly for the Frey Lord's ceremonies, going over herself once last time before the woman behind her called for her attention, "My Lady?"

She turned, Nyvera; the young woman, was done with her stitches over Cat's shall, smiling lightly she excused the girl, reminding her first about the certain someone she had tasked her with fetching into her chambers. The bright-eyed girl nodded seriously, walking out and closing the door behind her, the silence returning then, alone with her thoughts suddenly here at the River toll again. Her mind drifting back to the ceremonies at daybreak, she was pretty, Cait had to admit. Among the dozen spawns up for the offer; Roslin had been a special girl, unexpected to be fair. Soft brown hair down her narrow, nubile hips, arms thin and fingers elegant, a fine face that was still young as well.

What are you planning Walder? She wondered grimly, the bread and salt ceremony had been the first order of business once arriving at the Two Towered Castle, the river road running south into the midlands from here on without much hindrance. Here Walder Frey laid his dominion, Cat remembering the last marriage proposal that had been broken unceremoniously with the Freys, the old man had denied any other bond in its stead, but just as suddenly his mind had been changed, that made her worry.

Her thoughts were cut short when the door sounded knocks behind it, Cat speaking out and letting the old Septa come in slowly, bowing correctly she came before her, "Yes, my lady?" She asked, "You asked to see me?"

"Yes" Cat smiled lightly, coming close to the old, plump woman and taking out outside to the balcony as she spoke on then among the winds, "Septa, I would wish to ask you of Roslin, and her health." She went on, explaining her objective fears against the approved proposal, it could still all be a trick, she wondered, watching the old woman take it all in.

Cat saw her smile reassuringly, "Don't worry, my Lady. Lady Roslin is of good health and bloodied her sheets early into her thirteenth winter. You mustn't concern yourself with questions of her barrenness, I assure you." She told her, taking a more storied tone then, "Lady Bethany is from a well-fledged line, I am certain her daughter will make an excellent mother."

Cat nodded slowly back, turning towards the dark shifting below the fields where different smells wafted up and away, a gallery of firelights into the dark, "I see." She replied, at last, nodding with some regained assurance from the Septa who then patted her shoulder gently, saying little more before deciding to move out and leave Cat alone once again.

After a moment of pause, she found herself, breathing in the cool nightly airs as she turned, the time was nearing now, they would be expecting her below; Edmure's wedding ceremonies down the stone steps into the bowl of the old castle as she walked out the door, reaching for the hall where the large gathering took place.

Arya

The little lady of Winterfell was crouched down, hiding behind the cider barrels by the tents as she stalked the Hound who sat upon the wagon head on the road. Seeing the cloaked man scowl and turn back to the guard who had kept him busy enough for her to slip away, leaving him and moving almost on instinct as she felt him. Robb, you're here, she was giddy with joy, her heart desperate to find her brother with dark curls for hair, a youth so much like her own mother.

But it was not Robb that she sensed just then; it was an odd feeling, as it had been over by the Neck to King's Landing; when it had been her, Sansa, and Joffery over by river with Mycah. She tried to not remember just then, sensing the presence more strongly now, recognizing that call from someone like Nemyria.

Smiling then, she understood, Greywind, I'm coming, she told the direwolf through her weak bond with the beast, feeling the desperate and urgent nature of his distress, feeling his impatience and growing wariness. She walked quietly across the small pots that were off for scrubbing by the river, from the darkened scullery grounds, and then across a lazily guarded spot as she pretended to be carrying swords. Having found a bunch unguarded nearby, carrying them in both arms as she moved on through, a gate soon was appearing to her left.

"Hey!" A voice called out, Arya turned, seeing a crusty old guard come by her way, the long torch lighting his thick mustache over the rounded Stark helm bordering his wrinkly face, having come close spoke on, "Where ya off to, boy?" He asked roughly, eyeing the scabbard blades in the arms of the presumed boy.

Arya only turned and pointed the bunch at the blacksmith across the eastern gate, the man nodded slowly, "Alright then" he said, spitting something substantial beside her as he scratched his neck and moved on, somewhat drunk from the smell she had gotten off him, and the way he stumbled onward.

She sighed in relief, finding herself in the slowly rising mess of a crowd that gathered for the wedding that was tying Frey to Tully. Arya ducked under a few crates as she moved closer to the castle grounds, the first guards saw little through their drunken merriment as the limber figure made it through, over the parapets, and across the inner stables where dark pools for eyes gazed back at her under the moonless night.

Moving past the horses where the kennel grounds, her senses feeling the beast more clearly now, his heightened presence coming through more strongly. She stopped, turning; a host of men came at once from one side. Before her Arya saw a pile of dead bodies, the second set of men who came in without minding the cadavers below them as the Castle was in a sudden uproar around her then, what had been a quiet affair not minutes ago had turned into a full-on skirmish behind Arya where she saw Stark fight the Frey and all her thralls.

She turned back, heart beating fast in the roaring commotion, she couldn't stay here long, but-

The guards came close; she didn't know what she expected then; seeing the large crossbows came up to the bars above the enclosure. The guards hesitated not a second, the beast dying in her mind behind the wooden cell. Arya's mind broke at once, her eyes shuddering as her soul felt itself drowning, then the pain came, slowly at first and then fully, then the life she felt from the beast leaked completely out of it, the corpse behind no doubt ridden with bolts.

She was on the wet soil then, flailing in pain as she tried not to make a sound, biting her tongue and bleeding herself in the process, her torments lasted a few seconds longer, then, and she came. Arya feeling the beast's comforting embrace, Nymeria, is that you? She whispered; her help in embracing the death of a brother, her mind found Robb then, he was so sad. Why was he sad? She felt him stand still, stunned from something that made his mind go numb, she tried to feel him, probe after her brother but after moments of silence, she was severed off him completely, finding suddenly nothing, just nothing.

Robb, oh Robb, Ro-, she felt herself falling, darkness coming over as she felt something nudged her wet boot softly, pulling her steadily as Arya fell completely into oblivion.

Catelyn

Night had truly arrived once she saw the large double door opposite the throne room table was set to close, the long wooden balance planked in as the feast was ready to commence then. A jolly tune rose above her as the cool of earlier was now far gone due to how stuffed the hall had become once people had started shuffling in, strange faces that Cat could seldom make out, and most among them no doubt Frey. Cat saw Edmure then, with his new bride who looked nervous enough, no doubt anticipating her coming wedding night.

Most everyone was already drunk by then once the honorary words had been spoken, she was thankful to see Robb's guards were not. Cat turned to the hook-nosed Lord who sipped languidly from a goblet to her right, Roose Bolton was pale as death from beside her, watching over the hall, eyes distant. She remembered the pale man's quarrel with the old Frey earlier, veiled threats from the old Walder who still had his daughter held hostage under the Bolton banner. Cat took a sip of the wine, grimacing inwardly as she looked about, not a cheerful wedding at all, she wondered sadly, soon remembering Sansa's own wedding down south. One thing at a time, Cat.

She remembered the Older Frey bicker with Robb then, him having denied Greywind to the inner quarters; Robb had taken it all from the old man in silence as had been their plan, insults and all included. Cat saw the Frey Knight denying him Olyvar, Robb quietly going back to the low merriment then, the Knight sitting down further down from her, watching quietly as the feast continued. Old Frey spoke on then, bringing all their attention to the feast hall table to her right. She turned, seeing the old man rise as he proclaimed the customary rituals that took the newlywed pair off to their prepared chambers. Catelyn saw Robb and Walder Frey stay on behind as the groom and the bride was taken off as was custom then, the door locking a second time.

She frowned in the now lessened crowd among the hall, turning over; the choir above had started a new tune then. A low rise of a hum of a string crying out in a tense silence that had taken over the hall then, Old Walder was slamming the table then once the room was left emptier than before, the old man rose tall before the grand table, the goblet in his hand as he spoke with a rising smile over that wrinkled face, "I feel I've been remiss, in my duty," he began slowly, "I've given you meat, and wine, and music but I haven't shown you the hospitality you deserve, my king has married," he said pronounced, "and I owe my new queen a wedding gift." she heard a few low rouses coming from her other side, turning as a sickening feeling too over her stomach, turning to the pale hook-nosed man beside her who was grim, eyes expressionless towards Cat as reached instinctively for his cuff, seeing the shiny coiled mail below his leather overalls and understanding at once what was about to happen to them.

Cat slapped him and tried to call out to her son in alarm but chaos erupted seconds later.

She felt herself be dragged away from the calmly sitting man at once, a hail of bolts from the floor above whizzing past her to the Stark men below who were as confused and alarmed as her then. Some rose but most she saw got daggers to their backs or bladed steel slit their throats without warning. She saw Robb then, wincing inward as she saw two bolts take his chest; he was quiet though, looking someplace else. It was then she saw Jeyne; lifeless, in a pool of her own blood, leaking out her bloated stomach as her last gaze had been set on her sad-looking boy. Another bolt took him on the other side, a gasp of pain as he fell.

Catelyn Stark dashed for him, getting a few steps on before a bolt took her from the back as well, stumbling down she fell below the tables for safety, seeing a long knife dropped off from the commotion. She gripped it hard, moving through the long hall as she saw the old Frey's young wife crouching near her and knew the girl to be her only option then. Her frenzied mind told her, panic taking over her senses. She turned through the pain, the sweat and blood wetting her back a distant memory in the silence that suddenly grew around his rising form, behind her were the host of dead Stark and Robb, who watches over his dead wife wordlessly once having risen, two bolts protruding out his chest. Her hands were quivering out of rage then, tears beading her eyes as her vision blurred, the old Frey atop the feast hall watching the massacre quietly.

The old Frey spoke once he saw Robb animate himself, no anger on the young King's face, a strange expression that made him seem hollow, a peculiar howl from outside the walls came then, making Cat shiver, the distant howl ending as a slow murmur left behind once the carnage had ended in the halls. Cat saw Robb reach for the strange girl from Essos, her brown skin marred with dark wetness over her clear blue gown, Robb gently came around his love and found her wanting; lifeless as stone in his arms, "Heh," Lord Walder crackle at Robb, "the King in the North arises. Seems we killed some of your men, Your Grace. Oh, but I'll make you an apology, that will mend them all again, heh." he ended sourly, taking a sip from his goblet.

Cat rose through the pain at once, grabbing the young girl by her throat, the dagger coming before her as she faced Walder Frey, "Enough!" She shouted, all the men above focusing in on her, a silence that returned as Robb watched his dead wife wordlessly still.

"Lord Walder!" she shouted for him, "Lord Walder, enough! Let it end, please," she begged with tears in her eyes, "he is my son. My first son, let him go and I swear we will forget this," she shook her head, believing it so, "by the old gods and the new. We swear we will take no vengeance."

"You already swore an oath in this very castle that your son would marry my daughter, you swore it to all the Gods your son would marry my daughter!" she roared at the end, anger evident in his eyes.

She was frantic then, shouting madly, "Take me for a hostage! But Let Robb go", she turned around, "Robb, get up! Get up and walk out, please...please" she cried, her voice dying down, realization slowly creeping in.

The Frey Lord leaned back facing her and casually asked, "And why would I do that?"

Cat turned to him, her eyes fierce again, "On my honor as a Tully, on my honor as a Stark, let him go or I will cut your wife's throat." she spoke darkly to her, bladed handshaking before the whimpering girl, already having carelessly cut her in the tussle a bit, she heard Rob rise slowly in the distance, finally having heard her.

The old man was quiet for a moment, and seemed surprised, sitting from his chair as he looked at her, "I'll find another." he said slowly, a rising smile as he looked like he had said something very obvious.

She heard Robb stand and turn towards her, turning slowly she saw her son's dead eyes, set on her as he mumbled to her, "Mother…"

A figure blocked him off her then, "The Lannister sent their regards." Seeing the tall figure come before her son, a dagger into his gut that stayed there as he slowly fell, taking his last rest.

She felt nothing then, a wordless cry inward as she looked about dazed, wondering just how she had managed to lose all her children, Our Children, Ned, she called out for help to him, Bran, Rickon, Robb, Sansa, Arya… they need me, they need us, thy-,She looked over herself, dark blood on her arms and dress, had it been the girl? Deep red soaking into her gown, face a mess of blood and tears running down her chin. Ned had loved her face once, had fallen in love with her over it, she smiled remembering, grinning wilding and then screaming into the night like the madwoman she had become.

She felt little then afterward, a few words from the remaining Frey, they had her by her hairs then, she winced one last time before a cool dagger kissed her throat. No, Ned liked my hair not my hair, please…, she pleaded wordlessly, falling into Oblivion then, darkness coming to engulf her whole.

Arya

She came back, seeing dark leaves shifting into her vision, rising slowly she found herself beside the banks, the fighting had died down around these parts as she got up, scouting the close by region. Soon enough seeing the Hound walking the other way, no doubt he had been looking for her. She tried to slip away, across the tents but he had already spotted her first, turning at once and rushing to grab her by the neck and pulling her close.

His grip came at once and felt inescapable, "Where did you go off you, girl?!" He whispered harshly to her, the burnt side of his face coming very close to Arya, rage evident in his eyes. After a while, he receded slowly then sighed, "We should go, can't ransom you now, not here." He said quietly in a rough voice, looking over the western gate as he no doubts planned for an escape.

Coming into herself, Arya spoke up, "No, my mother and brother are still in there, I have to, I have-"

"You can't do anything, girl. Now shut up," he said, not looking her way, walking a few paces to get a better view of the wagon that was still under inspection by the Frey guards over by the post. She turned around, the dark mess of tangled weeds and shrubby beyond would provide enough cover, she could just slip out that way. Run; get away from the man who she had promised to kill, for now at least.

And so she did, running without ceremony as she paced quickly past the tents, the river coming up before her, her legs ready to leap when something collided with her head to her back, bringing darkness at once.

It was strange writing this, normally as a writer, you don't build characters and give them decent arcs and then break them down just as suddenly, feels wrong, and maybe that's why it took a while to do this lol...