"Why do you think they're screaming?"

Catelyn Stark didn't know what to reply to her son, nor did she know what he felt inside as he said those words, his tone a complete puzzling mystery to her.

She bit her tongue, feeling a lump in her throat, knowing she would surely have tears flowing down her face was she not so dehydrated. I hardly know my son anymore. I can't tell if he sounds hopeful or fearful, upset or angry.

I have failed him, as much as I failed all of my children, Catelyn thought, feeling a mixture of bitterness and sorrow swell inside of her.

"Mother?" Robb asked again.

She lifted her head vaguely in the direction where she presumed her son was sitting, her eyes widening when she realised that Robb was standing, his hands tightly gripped to the cell's iron bars to support his now-fragile frame. Catelyn hadn't seen her son stand in months… or was it years?

"Something's happening."

"Robb-" She began to respond, noticing how the screams from upstairs were beginning to fade.

He cut her off, "Mother! When was the last time the guards have been alarmed? They are worried! Couldn't you hear it?"

At Robb's comment, Catelyn could hear murmurs of agreement from all the other Northern prisoners, which was something rare as the other prisoners scarcely said anything.

Catelyn listened in on the Northerners, hope evident in their voices, unsure of what to say or feel herself.

"Mother! Something is going on!" Robb said for the third time, his voice somehow getting louder, stronger. "LISTEN to me!"

She then heard the lone guard's frustrated grunt.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" He barked, storming towards Robb, "Seven 'ells, nothing is 'appenin 'ere…" The sound of the dungeon door swinging open caused the brutish man to trail off, the man turning his head in the direction of the door as light momentarily filled the room before fading, leaving the room to become dark once more.

The guard cleared his throat and hastily drew his sword, with the sound of his feet clumsily shuffling around the room bouncing around the room. "Who's there?" He called out hesitantly, with the only response to his question that he received being the sound of silence that suffocated the room afterwards.

The silence dragged on, with no one in the room saying or doing anything, not the guard, not any Northerner, or Edmure or Robb or her. And although she could barely see anything in the blackness all around her, Catelyn knew that there was complete stillness holding the room, as a prisoner of sorts.

But then a voice broke the moment, a voice saying words that sent an eerie chill down Catelyn Stark's spine;

"The North Remembers."

the body of the guard dropped to the floor in what seemed like seconds after those words were spoken. A sound of gurgling blood followed.

She was stunned into silence. She had a million questions on her mind, a million things she wanted to ask, a million answers she needed to receive. A million words stuck inside her throat.

But she could focus on only one thing; I recognise that voice. I can't speak, but I can remember…something about that voice… But she couldn't place it, even with those voice saying those words ringing in her head, she couldn't recall a time she had heard a voice so hateful, and cold and angry, a voice so destroyed. The only thing I can gather from the voice's owner is that she's a female.

"Who are you?" The question brought her back from her thoughts. One of the Northerners had asked it, sounding curious and equally scared.

"Justice." The voice replied, once again allowing stillness to creep back into the room, with everyone too perplexed to speak. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of the door swinging open once more as the woman exited, allowing Catelyn to catch a glimpse at her back. Gods, she is small! She thought, how someone so small can kill like that… She stared at the corpse, covered in his blood on the floor in the momentary light that filled the room.

"What in the God's name was that?" Great John Umber sputtered as the prisoners were once again left in the darkness.

No one answered, with the door swinging back open, revealing the woman once more, her small frame holding a bright flaming torch.

The room was restored to light, and Catelyn could now see the woman clearer.

Nothing in her is familiar, she thought sadly as she scanned the woman's face for any sign that she had ever known her. But her small brown eyes, calm expression, small button nose, thin lips and dirty blonde hair stirred up nothing in Catelyn.

She finally found the words to speak, "Who are you?" Catelyn's voice was weak, but the woman whipped her head round to look at her as soon as spoke, almost as if she was in alarm.

To Catelyn's dismay, the woman's eyes grew wide, her face paling. The calm expression was gone, taken and replaced by one of horror… or fear.

"No…" Was all that left her lips before the girl threw herself backwards, away from Catelyn. "Catelyn Stark is dead!" The cool and collected woman's voice was gone, replaced by a voice that sounded small… like a child's.

That voice… it sounds like…

Catelyn was distracted by the girl, who was staring at her. Her eyes were wider than ever and she looked as timid as a mouse, as scared as a child having night terrors. But the girl approached despite the mask of terror on her face, she crept closer and closer until Catelyn Stark could clearly see the tears pooling in her eyes.

"Who are you?" She asked her one last time.

To her surprise, the girl lifted her hand to her face and peeled it off, like it was nothing but a mask.

A faceless man!

But then Catelyn looked at her face, her face. She saw her large grey eyes, her tangled messy brown hair, her dimples, and she remembered.

Gods… she's so beautiful now…

"Arya?" Her voice was choked by a sob that was caught in her throat, but Catelyn's daughter understood.

"Mother?" Her daughter cried, desperately reaching her hand into Catelyn's cell and grasping Catelyn's own hand. Catelyn held her daughter's warmth, taking in every aspect of her as she tearfully felt her hand in her own.

I can't believe it… I can't…

Catelyn stroked Arya's hair.

No, she's here…

She ran her hand down her daughter's cheek.

This is happening…

"Arya?" Robb half-sputtered, half-sobbed. He can't believe it either.

XXXXXX

Robb

"Arya?" One word. One word and her head turned. One word and he felt hope and happiness and every emotion he believed he would never feel again crashed into his body.

She turned her head.

Gods, she has grown…

She turned her head and cried. She cried and she ran to him, saying "Robb" again and again, like she was trying to convince herself that everything that was happening was actually happening.

"Let me get a look at you, sister." He said, wondering if his crying made his words impossible to understand.

But she understood. She came closer to Robb, laughing and weeping simultaneously as she brought her face to Robb's.

Mother was right… she has become beautiful, he thought as he looked upon her face; her features had spaced out in just the right way, and her grey eyes shone, like pools of water.

Arya horseface, underfoot… those names are no more.

"I'm going to get you out of here." She said, her voice hardening as she turned back to mother. Her eyes flicked to the dead guard.

She strode to the body and pulled out a set of keys.

"I, Arya Stark will free every prisoner in this room!" Her voice rang throughout the dungeons, with the Northerners all responding with deep laughter and cheers. Robb was about to join them when his eyes were drawn back to the corpse that lay bloodied on the floor.

It quickly dawned on Robb;

Arya killed him...