Disclaimer: I own nothing and feel free to use any of the OC's I create in your own works.

The premise of this fic will be Robb surviving and navigating the aftermath of the Red Wedding

This fic will blend elements from the book and the show

The Red Wedding

Catelyn:

The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding.

Dacey Mormont, who seemed to be the only woman left in the hall besides Catelyn, stepped up behind Edwyn Frey, and touched him lightly on the arm as she said something in his ear. Edwyn wrenched himself away from her with unseemly violence. ''No,'' he said, too loudly. ''I'm done with dancing for the nonce.'' Dacey paled and turned away. Catelyn got slowly to her feet. What just happened there? Doubt gripped her heart, where an instant before had been only weariness. It is nothing, she tried to tell herself,you are seeing grumkins in the woodpile, youare become an old silly woman sick with grief and fear. But something must have shown on her face. Even Ser Wendel Manderly took note. ''Is something amiss?'' he asked, the leg of lamb in his hands.

She did not answer him. Instead she went after Edwyn Frey. The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits. With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew ''The Rains of Castamere'' when she heard it. Edwyn was hurrying toward a door. She hurried faster, driven by the music. Six quick strides and she caught him.And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow solow?She grabbed Edwyn by the arm to turn him and went cold all over when she felt the iron rings beneath his silken sleeve.

Olyvar, she thought,and Perwyn, Alesander, all absent. And Roslin wept . . .

Robb:

Robb sat at the high table in the main hall of the Twins. Walder Frey had bid him to sit, eat, drink and enjoy the many sensations of the wedding. However, the only sensation Robb was feeling was boredom as he heard men droll on and on about petty disputes and minor grievances hoping to catch his ear and spur him to action upon their complaints.

He made an internal promise to himself that after he officially wed his love, Jeyne, nothing would ever bring him away from the love of his life. It was nothing but a farce Robb knew as if he wanted to be a great king, he had to put his kingdom and its subjects above his own personal life, but Robb had already failed to do that once before, putting his love for Jeyne above the future of his kingdom when he married her, breaking his betrothal to Roslin Frey and fracturing his relations with her house. Nonetheless, it was pleasing to Robb to dream about having no obligations save being a proper husband for Jeyne. Robb missed her touch, the sweet smell of her perfumes, her soothing voice and graceful cadence. He wanted nothing more than to saddle his swiftest horse, fling open the gates of the Twins, and ride back to the halls of Rivverun, to her arms.

Unfortunately however, his duty was here at the Twins where his task was cleaning up the mess he had made of his pact with the Frey's. Interestingly enough, Walder had not taken too much offense to Robb's change of spouse and had decided to settle for Edmure instead. Robb supposed it made sense as after all, the Tully's were the Frey's immediate liege lords which gave the Frey's an incredible advantage for disputes in the Riverlands over land and rights because of the influence Roslin and her eventual son would have over Edmure.

Things had worked out pretty well considering the chaos that would have rocked his campaign if the Frey's had chosen to break the pact like Robb had and withdrawn their troops from the war. Once this wedding was over with, Robb intended to take the Northern forces and drive a hard campaign through the Crownlands causing as much damage as possible to the Lannisters before they could properly recover from the assault Stannis had led against King's Landing. Robb hoped to keep the forces of Highgarden in disarray as well by campaigning between the Reach and the Crownlands, severing key supply lines and giving Mace Tyrell one serious headache. This war was winnable, but Robb would need to plot every move carefully if he wanted any hope for victory.

Speaking of victory, a smile made its way to Robb's lips as he watched Dacey Mormont walk up to Edwyn Frey, asking him for a dance. Dacey Mormont didn't want to dance with Edwyn Frey anymore than she wanted to be in the dress she was wearing but Robb had bid her do both after he had won a bet at the Stepstones, the details of which would make a traditional lady like his own mother, Catelyn shudder in disgust and reprehense at lack of taste. Dacey, however was no lady of traditional and she asserted that distinction every day she stood guard over Robb.

Strangely enough however, Edwyn Frey refused her offer rather abruptly, his loss Robb supposed as Edwyn was not likely to find anyone better given his lack of status or comeliness. What happened afterward was even stranger, his mother walked up to Edwyn, grabbed his wrist and froze. Edwyn dared to shove her away, leaving the room and Robb rose in anger, fury coursing through his veins at the blatant disrespect Edwyn had shown to his mother. Before he could pursue Edwyn and punish him for his transgressions, he heard a familiar hymn playing up on the balconies.

"And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?"

Robb recognized that hymn, it was the same that a bard had performed to Robb when he was sent along with Cleos Frey who was to negotiate with Robb at the behest of Tywin Lannister. At the time, Robb had been amused at the blatant act of intimidation and continued his conversation with Cleos, cutting the bard off before he could finish his somber tune. Now it didn't seem so funny to Robb, he turned to his mother and called out, trying to inquire about what was wrong and possibly figure out what compelled such a strange choice of song. His mother turned back to him, but in place of the calm, diplomatic expression she usually wore was one of despair and terror.

Fear froze the blood in Robb and the hairs on his neck stood up as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Catelyn screamed "Robb, down" before slamming into a table, a crossbow bolt protruding from her back. Robb instinctually dived under the table he had been dining on. In the place he had just been, two crossbow bolts buried into the chair, intended for him. Robb roared to his men in the hall "Take cover, the Frey's have betrayed us" as bolts began raining down from crossbowmen on the balcony where bards had been just moments ago.

Wyman Manderly was struck down by three bolts before he could move, one ripping through his neck while another two lodged their way into his stomach. Robb watched Lucas Blackwood get swarmed by Frey's with daggers. Robb felt helpless as more and more of the men who called him King were struck down by Frey swords and bolts before they could even move to defend themselves.

Drawing his sword from scabbard, he called out to the survivors in the room who managed to take cover "Men of the North, to Arms" and charged at the Frey's in the room, intent on killing as many of the feral scum as possible before being done in himself. Robb drove his sword through the stomach of the first Frey he reached, kicking him back as he keeled over and screamed, he parried a spear from another soldier, sidestepped, and slashed at his leg, bringing him to his knees before driving his sword through the bastard's chest. Another enemy swung at Robb with an axe which he easily parried but before Robb could counter, a bolt slammed through the head of his attacker, intended for Robb but helping him instead. Robb lunged at another Frey, his back turned as he raised his sword over Dacey Mormont. He grabbed him by the hair, spinning him around and painted a red smile on the Frey's throat before he could say more than "No, Please!" Robb grabbed Dacey's arm and pulled her up, pressing the sword of the Frey into her hand. She murmered a word of thanks, dazed by the sudden attack. Robb felt a presence at his back and pivoted, ready to continue killing, but it was Smalljon Umber.

The Smalljon roared at Robb, "Those fucking Frey bastards have gone mad, what the fuck is happening. Where the fuck is my father! I'm going to gut that craven Walder and hang his insides from a fucking weirwood" in his typical Umber diction, magnified by the gravity of the betrayal that had occured.

By now, the remaining Northmen had cleared out most of the Frey soldiers in the room, raising the tables up as shield to protect themselves from the crossbow bolts still firing down from the balconies

Robb replied, "Vengeance aside, we need to get out of here and warn our soldiers outside before they share the fate we so narrowly avoided." Robb motioned to the motionless Northerners in the room

Jon, following Robb's logic, nodded and spoke "Lead us, my King"

Before leaving, Robb took one last look at the mess that had ensued in the hall, Wyman Manderly lay dead along with Lucas Blackwood, Donnel Locke, Robin Flint and Owen Norrey and many others. All great men and trusted friends of Robb, all gone because of Walder Frey and his treachery. Then Robb saw her body, the body of the beautiful woman who had raised him into the man he was becoming, his mother lay dead with a bolt through her chest. Robb didn't get a chance to say goodbye let alone a last glance. Tears welled in his eyes but he drove them out with anger, and he promised to himself that every single Frey would hang from the Twins, no he would douse them in pitch, set them on fire screaming and hang them from iron cages for all the realm to see.

Arya:

Arya stood in the courtyard of the Twins, waiting for someone she recognized to come out of the castle so she could follow them to Robb. She had barely escaped the Hound but knew at any moment he could come and recapture her. He heard the howls and barks of Grey Wind in the kennel, furious at his imprisonment and separation from Robb, however Arya supposed it was necessary to avoid some pompous lord from being mauled if he got too drunk and decided it was a good idea to try petting Grey Wind.

Something felt wrong to Arya as a chill reverberated through her, the music had stopped and she heard yells and shouting coming from both the castle and the pavilions outside the castle. The shouts soon devolved into screams and Arya heard the clash of steel as men began to fight everywhere her eyes could see. Arya froze, paralyzed by the chaos and fear wracked her. She had to get to Robb and save him before these men killed him, Arya took off running towards the doors to the keep, desperate to save her brother before another person she cared about was taken from her. A hand suddenly shot out from behind and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. Arya flipped around, kicking, screaming, and punching, doing anything to save herself.

"Let go, let go, get off me"

Then she heard a familiar voice, "Shut the fuck up and calm down before I knock you out you little twat"

Arya relaxed and looked up, the Hound loomed over her with a scowl, he rasped "Your brother is dead, same as his men, the only hope you have for survival is with me. Take it or leave it, I don't give a fuck but I am leaving"

Arya started "He could be alive, you're a liar, Robb wouldn't get killed at a fucking wedding, you have no idea how good he is at fighting. You know how many battles he's won"

The Hound chuckled, responding, "And I suppose your father could be alive as well. He's dead Arya, they both are, don't throw away your life just to find out it was all for nothing, or do, I don't care"

Arya opened her mouth to respond but before she could, the gates to the hall opened and 6 Frey soldiers walked out. Sandor grabbed Arya and hid behind a wagon, watching the men walk across the courtyard.

"First the Young Wolf now the actual wolf" One of the men jeered and got laughs from the others.

He then placed his crossbow into the hands of another man, well armored "Ser Benfrey, enjoy the honors of getting rid of that feral beast"

Ser Benfrey stepped forward, loading a bolt into the crossbow

Arya squirmed as the Hound restrained her, "They're going to kill Grey Wind, let me go, I have to save him"

"He's dead, let it go, they're all dead, just leave it already."

Arya wrenched herself out of the Hound's grip miraculously and before Sandor could grab Arya again, she grabbed a horseshoe on the wagon and hurled it at the group of men surrounding the kennel.

The horseshoe slammed into Ser Benfrey's shoulder, throwing him back. He turned around, yelling, "Who did that"

The Hound gave Arya a long stare, turned back to the men near the kennel and just said "Fuck" before drawing his sword and standing up to face them

Ser Benfrey dropped the crossbow and drew his sword, he yelled "You threw that horseshoe, you peasant brat" leveling his sword at the Hound.

The Hound replied "Slipped, I guess"

Sir Benfrey, enraged by Sandor's callousness, charged him roaring in fury. Sandor simply parried, grabbed the sword arm of Sir Benfrey and drove his own sword across Benfrey's stomach as he shrieked in pain. The other Frey's watched as their former lord's guts spilled out onto the cobblestone of the courtyard and he collapsed to the floor, dead.

"What the fuck" One of the soldiers gasped "Kill him"

The soldiers drew their sword and began slowly advancing towards the Hound, wary of him after he had sent their best swordsman to an early grave. Arya began to sneak across the courtyard, unnoticed by the Frey soldiers who were too busy with a Clegane to notice a little girl making her way across the courtyard. They began fighting the Hound and steel rang out in the courtyard. Sandor was quick and powerful, killing two men, but eventually they began driving him back. Arya reached the kennel and began undoing the latches. She finished the last latch, but before she could even open the door, it flung open and a massive dark mass bolted out towards the men fighting in the courtyard. Before the first man could even turn, Grey Wind had pounced on him, clamping his jaws down on his head, reducing it to a bloody pulp before the Frey could utter a word. Grey Wind and Sandor made quick work of the men killing them all. Grey Wind, then turned to Sandor, unaware of his allegiances, growling and pacing forward menacingly.

"GREY WIND STOP!"

The bloody direwolf turned and saw Arya, arms extended, slowly inching towards the wolf.

"You know me" Arya said as she rubbed the muzzle of Robb's beast, calming it.

"If Robb died in that keep, maybe some part of him lives in you now. You need to live, roam free and keep that part of Robb alive."

Arya stood up, guiding Grey Wind to the entrance of the Twins. She pointed to the woods to her left on the edge of raging battle, "You need to run into there, don't stop to kill, don't stop at all, just run Grey Wind, run. Do you understand me." She looked down at the large, observant eyes of Grey Wind.

Arya sighed "Of course, you don't understand me, you're not anything more than..." Arya was suddenly interrupted as Grey Wind bolted forward out of the castle. Fear racked her as she thought Grey Wind was headed straight to join the battle. However, the direwolf did exactly as Arya had instructed, going right past the chaos of the battle and straight into the forest. Arya breathed a sigh of relief then immediately was stricken with grief for her brother. She turned back to the Hound who was looking at her with an expression more respectful then she had ever seen.

"I'm going in there to find my brother, dead or alive, and I'm going to kill everyone who betrayed him"

The Hound's expression reverted back to one of contempt and he started "You are going to accomplish nothing but sharing the fate of your brother"

Arya replied "If that is what's going to happen, so be it"

The Hound simply uttered "Fine" and stood back to allow Arya to pass by into the keep of the Twins. Arya was surprised by this sudden change in attitude but quickly assumed it was simply that the Hound had enough of her shit and was willing to let her die. But as Arya passed by, she felt the cold reprimand of steel on her head as the Hound drove the hilt of his sword into the back of Arya's head to knock her out. The Hound gathered Arya's now limp body onto his shoulder, chuckling, and saying, "Foolish girl, believe it or not, one day you'll thank me or atleast my memory for sparing you from a fate like this" as he watched men everywhere scream and die, opposite visages of what had once been merry, happy men just moments ago. With that, the Hound gathered one of the horses from the courtyard stable, mounted up, and rode like hell out and away from the Twins with Arya safe in tow.

Robb:

The Northern party made their way quickly through the halls, dispatching small groups of Frey expecting to catch 1 or 2 Northmen unaware, not an organized group. They reached the doors leading to the outside of the keep and opened them, moving outside to the courtyard with haste. Robb observed the battle raging outside on the banks of the Trident, watching Northmen fight Frey's and Bolton. Robb's soldiers were fighting hard but they were disorganized and caught off guard by the betrayal and were being pushed back and surrounded by the larger Frey force.

"Dacey, Umber, take our men and join that battle. Try and organize a general retreat, in the meantime, I'll get Grey Wind and a horse and rally as many men as possible. I'll join you once I'm finished", Robb ordered.

Small Jon and Dacey seemed uncomfortable leaving Robb alone in the courtyard by himself but because he gave them a direct order, they obeyed. They left at a brisk jog out of the courtyard and Robb could hear the distinct war cry of the Small Jon as he began avenging the wrongs that had been done that night. Robb turned back to the kennels, intent on freeing Grey Wind before any Freys showed up. Robb discovered an empty kennel however.

"No, no, no, not like this" Robb lamented as he mourned the loss of his direwolf, assuming some Frey's killed and removed him from the kennels. Then Robb took a closer look, there was no blood visible in the kennel that could have been Grey Wind's and Robb knew that no man would ever release a live direwolf unless he was sure of safety. Then Robb took a look around the courtyard, specifically at the corpses he had written off as unfortunate Northern soldiers beforehand. They were Frey's and while some of them had cuts from sword, some also had bite and claw marks. Someone had turned Grey Wind loose, as to the direction his wolf had gone, Robb had no clue. Robb felt a surge of happiness and relief as he realized his companion may be alive.

Suddenly, Robb heard horses bearing down into the courtyard from outside the castle.

"There he is! 50 dragons to the man who slays the Young Wolf"

Robb drew his sword and prepared to fight but upon seeing that he was gravely outnumbered by the horsemen, turned and ran into his only means of escape, back into the keep he had fought so hard to escape. He sprinted through the halls, looking for any means to escape the men in hot pursuit behind him. As he ran, more and more guards patrolling the castle chased him as well. Robb came up with an idea on the go, he was a good swimmer, if he could just get to somewhere where he could leap into the Trident below, he had a chance to survive the night. Between drowning and a sword in the gut, Robb guessed drowning was a more dignified way to go, less screaming. As Robb ran, he spotted it, the doors that opened out to the bridge spanning between the twin castles.

He was nearly there, nearly to a modicum of safety, then, he collapsed as something sharp and painful slammed into Robb's leg, sending him reeling to the floor. A crossbow quarrel lay embedded in his calf. Robb gasped in pain but there was no time, he had to keep going by any means possible, he crawled onto the bridge and hoisted himself up onto the top when he felt another quarrel slam into his torso, knocking out his breath and blurring his vision. Robb heard footsteps get closer and closer until they were right on top of him. He looked up to see a group of Frey soldiers standing over him, swords drawn, looking triumphant in the presence of a dying Robb, all except for one, Olyvar Frey.

"You too, Olyvar"

"I wish things were different. I'm sorry, Robb"

Olyvar drew his sword to finish Robb but Robb shook his head,

"No need for that, Olyvar"

Robb leaned back, falling off the bridge and plummeting down towards the bloodstained, corpse-riddled waters of the Trident below. As Robb fell, the faces of everyone he'd failed flashed before his eyes, his father, mother, sister Arya, brothers Bran and Rickon, even the Lannister squires who had died at the hands of Lord Karstark because he could not keep his own lords in check. All of his men who had died both noble and common, in the thousands for Robb's war, a war which had failed at every objective from saving his father to protecting the North. So many dead, all because Robb had failed in his duty as a brother, as a son, as a diplomat and commander, and most importantly as a king. As Robb felt the quarrels buried deep within him, seeping life away, it seemed that this world was done with Robb which he didn't really care about because Robb was done with this world.