AMINA
The Great Pyramid of Meereen towered over the city, casting shadows on the twisting alleys and wide brick streets below. From the terrace garden at the top, the city looked like a living, breathing creature. In the distance, the Skahazadhan river stretched into the plains beyond. It was beautiful in a strange sort of way, though it made Amina's heart ache for the cities of Westeros she barely knew.
Then her eyes landed on the plaza below and Amina's stomach churned again. It had been a hideous sight to see up close and the smell of rotting flesh and excrement had burned her nose. "It needed to be done," Daenerys said. But her face had betrayed her uncertainty. "They hung the bodies of two hundred slave children on the posts between here and Yunkai. This is what the Great Masters deserved."
"Blood for blood will not bring back those children," Amina murmured. She remembered Lord Karstark, so grief-stricken over the loss of his sons that he had murdered two innocent children in their place. It did not bring Torrhen or Eddard back. Nor would taking Tywin's head make Ned's grow back in its place. "There is a fine line between justice and revenge."
Daenerys did not respond, and for a long time they stood watch above the city. "Will you hold court with me?" Dany asked finally.
She'd asked several times, and every time Amina's answer was always the same. "I am not their queen. Let me rest." Even as the road North had renewed her spirts, the travel had weighed on her bones. She felt weary, like every step was a struggle through thick mud.
Amina thought her sister would leave then, normally she would. In those moments of silence, before she drifted into the land between this place and her own, she would be at peace. She treasured those few moments of quiet on top of the world.
But Daenerys lingered in the garden, and Amina finally turned toward her. "Did you know of Ser Barristan?" Dany asked. Amina hesitated, but nodded. "And you kept it to yourself."
"Barristan Selmy was a legend. I grew up hearing tales of his bravery. So, yes, when he disappeared from King's Landing and did not join a king, I suspected," Amina explained.
Dany didn't speak, so Amina went on. "Eddard always said Selmy was a great knight, and a loyal one. Until the very last he fought for Rhaegar, and when Robert marched into King's Landing, he kept his vows. Defend the king, whoever that king might be." Amina shook her head. It was no use telling Daenerys that Robert had once been a good man, that their father had been the tyrant.
"He would not have left his post if the Lannisters hadn't sent him away. We all wondered which king he might choose. But instead he chose a queen." Amina looked at her sister for a long moment. "Selmy bore you no ill will. If I believed he had, I would have warned you. I thought it best to let him tell his secret in his own time."
Daenerys nodded, she looked tired as if she just didn't have the strength to be angry with her sister too. "Our father, was he mad? Or was it one of the Usurper's lies?" From her tone, Amina knew which answer Daenerys wanted to hear. But Amina would not lie.
"Rickard Stark went to King's Landing to defend his daughter's honor, and Aerys burned him alive. His son was forced to watch, while they dangled a sword just out of his reach. I've heard the story from so many mouths; I know it's true. Something that terrible cannot be a lie," Amina told her. Daenerys looked stricken. "In the House of the Undying, we saw Aerys. He sat upon the throne and told his men to burn the city down. Aerys Targaryen was not a good man, but we are not our father."
Daenerys looked toward the corpse plaza. Amina followed her gaze and fought back a sigh. "They were not innocent," she acquiesced. It was not the punishment Amina would have chosen, but she could respect her sister's choices. Maybe if Amina had seen the bodies of the children, she would have made the same decision. "You aren't like Aerys. Neither of us are."
Dany took Amina's hand and squeezed. They stood in silence again. Amina wondered if her sister was also thinking about the life they'd never known. Of the family they'd lost before they were even born, of the missed opportunity to know each other. Daenerys offered a sad smile. "You should rest." And then Amina drifted away into the land in-between.
The Twins were as dreary and dank a place as Amina remembered, and the constant drizzle did nothing to help. She was eager to get this show over with, to go home. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was already there. The smell of soldier pines, the warm damp of hot springs, the taste of honeycakes. But the low rumble of Grey Wind's growl brought Amina back to herself.
She dismounted Myst and went to the wolf before he could do something they would all regret. Amina placed a hand on his raised haunches. Grey Wind whined, looking up at her with his big yellow eyes. Dread settled in Amina's chest. "Come now, we must keep a brave face."
Amina walked with Grey Wind toward the portcullis, where he stopped. Robb called him forward, but the wolf refused to go any further. Instead he let out a howl that seemed to shake the very foundation of the squat castle. The Freys reasoned that he feared the river, but Grey Wind had no such fears when they crossed before.
As Amina made for the gate, Grey Wind circled her. He pushed at the backs of her legs, as he could walk her off the bridge and back to dry land. Robb looked more embarrassed than worried. Since the news of Bran and Rickon, he had ignored Grey Wind's warnings. But the more Robb turned away from his wolf, the more it unsettled Amina. She couldn't help but look at Grey Wind and see his bloody head atop Robb's shoulders. But they could not turn back now.
In the great hall, Robb said his apologies to Walder Frey's daughters, and granddaughters, and maybe even a great-granddaughter or two. Edmure met his bride-to-be, a surprisingly beautiful younger daughter of Lord Frey. Amina suffered the old man's jibes at her appearance and character with a smile on her face. Then they were offered wine and bread to complete the guest right and shown to their rooms.
Amina held herself together until the door shut behind her, then she flew to the window. From the water tower she could see their men camped on the northern side of the Green Fork. She searched for Grey Wind but couldn't find him below. "I mislike being in the middle of this bridge," Amina muttered.
"Lothar said the water tower had the finest rooms," Robb reminded her. "It's better than we expected, at least."
Amina fixed him with a pointed look. "Or he just said that to ensure we couldn't balk at being kept in the middle of a river." Robb sighed and she knew he was as weary as she felt. "I just want to be through with this wedding."
Robb put a hand on Amina's back. "I miss Winterfell too." They both knew they would not be returning to the home they'd left. It had never been the castle that made it home, it had been their family. Now they were all that was left.
A knock on the door startled Amina, but she quickly pulled herself together as Roose Bolton was shown in. Lord Bolton was joined by several others; Ser Wendel, Robin Flint, the Greatjon, and his son. Amina tucked her fears away for the moment and retreated behind the mask she wore for her bannermen.
"I hope you bring us good news," Robb said by way of greeting.
From the looks on the men's faces; Amina knew that they did not. But still, Amina gave a soft smile as a gentler welcome, and tried to lighten the mood. "Gods know we need it in this weather."
The Greatjon let out a singular laugh, while Robin Flint adjusted his rain-soaked cloak. Roose Bolton only sighed and stared at them with his strange, pale eyes. "My son has sent word from Winterfell. Cley Cerwyn and Leobald Tallhart are dead. The Ironborn put the castle and surrounding village to the torch."
The air seemed to go out of the room. Amina had expected the worst, and still it stung. The castle would survive a burning, the stones were old and strong, the damage would be fixed. But the winter town was straw and wood and mud brick.
Amina closed her eyes, remembering the countless days she'd spent on those streets. The vendors she knew by their faces, if not by their names. The nights spent at the Smoking Log with Theon, drinking tankards of mead and betting on Garret's fights. The bruises she'd come home with after getting into a fight of her own. Gone, it's all gone.
She only allowed herself a moment to mourn before pushing it all away and returning to herself. "And what of Theon Greyjoy?" Robb demanded. "Is he slain as well, or did he flee?"
Roose removed a strip of what looked like leather from his pouch. "My son sent this with his letter." Amina had a sudden urge to wretch that had nothing to do with her condition. "The skin of the little finger of Theon Greyjoy's left hand. My son is cruel, I confess it. And yet...what is a little skin against the lives of two young princes?"
I should have killed him myself, Amina thought. Or dragged him back for Robb's justice. Anything but this. The Bolton's boasted a flayed man on their banner, and when Amina closed her eyes, the man was Theon. The only skin left was his face, and even that was peeling.
The feasting hall was not the room she'd met Lord Walder in all those months ago, but it looked near enough the same. Ugly and grey just like the whole Frey brood. But it sent a chill into her spine as well, and she told Aylward as much. "Enjoy the feast," he suggested, even as his eyes scanned the room, more focused on the men in it than the dishes placed before them. It was a terrible meal with terrible music, and the tea they'd brought to settle her stomach tasted like weeds and made her feel worse. But still she picked at her food, to be polite, and danced with half of Lord Walder's sons and grandsons and her own bannermen as well.
It was only when she noticed the Freys face down in their plates that it hit her. The Undying had shown her this room. They had warned her, and she'd been too deaf to listen. Robb was the first to notice her expression, and she clasped Aylward's arm. "Something is wrong."
"We should go," Aylward said, quietly. Her knight did not share the same jovial look of the other men participating in the bedding, and Amina had no interest in stripping Edmure down in the halls. "Now."
Robb was at her side, pulling her to her feet. Amidst the clamor for the door, and the bawdy jokes and loud music, no one seemed to notice how serious he looked. He swung her in his arms as if they were no more than two lovers sharing a dance. "This is the room," she whispered in his ear. "The one from my vision."
"Go with Aylward, to the bedding, he knows the way outside," Robb said, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his breath. Amina looked over her shoulder. Her knight looked as if he would scoop her up and carry her into the hall if she didn't leave on her own two feet.
Catelyn had disappeared, running after some flustered looking Frey in the opposite direction. "Come with me," Amina whispered to Robb. She hadn't noticed the tears on her cheeks, until Robb kissed them away. "I'm not leaving without you. We promised."
"And I warned you that wasn't a promise I could keep." Robb brushed her hair back from her face. "Take that letter and go. If the Gods are good, I'll see you across the river."
"The Gods are never good, and the Undying don't lie." Across the hall, the raucous bedding party had almost disappeared. Aylward hooked a hand under her arm, prepared to drag her out if he need be.
Robb placed one hand on her stomach, which had started to cramp with nerves. "I love you, Amina Stark." She felt lightheaded. He kissed her, and then he let her go. Then, Aylward was sweeping her toward the door, with a plastered-on smile and a poor attempt at a dance. Over her knight's shoulder, Amina mouthed the words back to Robb, I love you.
They had only just made it into the yard when she heard Grey Wind howl. Amina wanted to turn, run for the kennels. The wolf, she had to get to him. "Put this over your head," Aylward instructed her, tugging a tattered cloak around her and throwing the hood up.
"I have to..." Amina darted toward the sound of Grey Wind's second howl, but Aylward had his arms around her waist and he was thrice her size. Then the flames erupted in the camp, tent after tent lit up the night, and the fight went out of her. If Aylward hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed.
Amina hardly remembered getting across the bridge. The fires had faded and so had Grey Wind's howls. Her head was swimming and her stomach still clenched, and she wished she could just lie down, but Aylward wouldn't let her. He threw her onto Myst's back, and somehow, she'd held onto the reins and kept her seat.
They pushed their horses hard and fast through the night, and well into the next day. Amina tried to ignore the sharp, twisting pain in her stomach. Poison, she thought suddenly, panic gripping her. The taste of weeds and mint still lingered on her tongue. But why, if the Freys had been bold enough to slaughter them with weapons? Poison was a craven's tool. The pain must be thirst or hunger. She'd hardly touched the food served at the feast, and what she had eaten, she'd retched up while Aylward was tossing her on the back of her horse.
Myst was a strong mount, but even she would need rest. They should stop soon. Yet even the horse seemed unwilling to chance it. Surely the Freys would have sent men after them. The pain in her abdomen returned with a fierce vengeance. Amina lost hold on her reins and clutched at her belly instead. That was when she noticed the blood, dark and red and sticky on Myst's grey-white shoulder. An arrow, it must be an arrow.
Then she fell from the saddle, pain making her vision go white.