CHAPTER 41 | THE RAINS OF CASTAMERE

LORD Frey sat at the highest table, with his young wife, daughter, and Edmure sitting beside him. A band played loudly through their ears, but it was a hearty rhythm that everyone enjoyed. Catelyn laughed along with the Blackfish and Roose Bolton. Freya sipped her wine beside her husband, who was laughing at the sight of Edmure with his new wife, Roslin Frey.

Freya watched a few women do a jig before her eyes rested on Lord Bolton. A servant tried to pour wine in his goblet, but he put his hand over it, refusing the drink. She lofted her brow, finding the occurrence odd.

Robb sighed, following his wife's eyes. "My mother's alone with Roose Bolton." He observed. "I should rescue her."

"She's fine," Freya sneered, watching the elders. "I would bet that they're discussing torturing strategies right at this very moment."

He rolled his eyes. "Be kind, Freya. She's finally starting to like you."

Freya wanted to laugh. "I beg to differ, kind Ser. If she had her way, I know she'd send me back to the Iron Islands for what my idiot brother did to Winterfell – despite that now no one seems to know where he is. And you, Stark – you would be sitting over there, eating blackberries out of Roslin Frey's small hand."

"Perhaps I've made a terrible mistake then," Robb smirked.

Freya's mouth fell open. She scoffed, "Perhaps you'd like to lose a hand!" She chuckled, thrusting her hand forward to hit him.

He caught her hand in his tough grasp, a grin still engulfing his face. His whole body tingled at their touch. "Striking your King is an act of treason," he reminded.

Freya furrowed her brow. "Manhandling your Queen should be one as well."

Robb liked to see the fire in her light eyes. He leaned forward, pressing a light kiss on her lips. Freya caressed her hand over the scruff on his cheek, practically feeling Walder Frey's eyes on them. They moved back, grinning towards each other in a devilish way that almost made them lick their chops. Freya was definitely more sexually-inclined than she used to be.

"Your Grace!" Lord Frey bellowed from his seat at the high table. The men in the room began to bang their goblets on the tables, but Walder silenced them with a raising of his hand. "The septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said, and Lord Edmure has wrapped my daughter in a cloak. But they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, and a wedding needs a bedding."

The crowd cheered and laughed loudly. Freya looked around, causing a disgusted sound to fall from her mouth. "What does my sire say?" Lord Walder asked with a laugh.

They were slamming their goblets again, and Freya looked to her husband doubtfully. He shrugged and stood from his seat. "If you think the time is right, Lord Walder, by all means," he smirked, "let us bed them."

Music began to play as the crowd shouted, "TO BED! TO BED! TO BED!" A group of men hoisted Roslin from her chair and into the air. They carried her out of the hall as Edmure was shoved out by a crowd of hungry women.

"Oh! Careful now, ladies." Edmure chuckled as he was pushed out of the hall. "Once you set that monster free, there's no caging him again!"

The crowd around them was still shouting as Freya slowly clapped her hands in an uncomfortable manner. The hall was practically empty now. Robb turned to his wife, muttering, "You look confused."

"Maybe customs are just different on the Iron Islands." She replied, moving closer to her husband and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Ironborn usually rape whatever they please, for gods know what reason. Bedding ceremonies only seem foreign because that's done before without any consent."

Robb lofted a brow. "It's a tradition in the North." He explained with his hands. "Without the bedding ceremony, there's no real proof the lord and lady consummated their marriage."

"Then what did you say as proof for our wedding night?" Freya wrinkled her nose, allowing her freckles to shine in the dim light. "It wasn't exactly one from your dreams, was it?"

"I still got to see you bare," Robb smirked, causing his wife to hit his arm. His expression soon grew serious. "I wouldn't change that night for anything. I wouldn't change our whole marriage for anything in the world."

Freya smiled softly as she pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek. Her hand ruffled his hair. "You, my King, are someone I never thought I'd love."

Robb kissed her lips then, savoring every taste they held. She smiled into the kiss, allowing her other hand to touch his chest. They leaned away, staring into each other's eyes with a grin. "Well," Freya mumbled, "that was quite nice, but I regret that I have to ruin it. I must find a house outside to piss."

Her husband laughed, his eyes following her as she exited from the great hall. Just as she made her way out, she heard the large doors close behind her. Freya looked over her shoulder, lifting her brow, before continuing outside. She passed by the groups of men entertaining themselves outside, and even saw Grey Wind's cage. She approached it, hearing him whine from inside.

"Shh," she whispered to the wolf, who was clawing at the door. "It won't be long now. I'll be the first to allow you out."

The whining dulled, but continued more as Freya left. She, eventually, found an out-house and closed the sheer door to do her business. As she finished, Freya caught herself looking downward, and she noticed that she had her moon blood. But of course, she concluded. No matter how many times her husband's seed filled her, she'd still bleed and bear no child. Luckily, Freya always carried her menstruation rag under her dress in the case of this situation.

When Freya walked out of the out-house, she caught sight of a commotion forming outside. She tried to allow her intuition to disregard it, but perhaps that was her biggest mistake. Two Stark banner men approached her on her walk, congratulating her on the current agreement made with Lord Frey. "It's very honorable that you managed to get sticky Walder Frey to agree to this," one of them bellowed.

"It wasn't easy, my good men. But speaking of that, I must go back to the wedding." She began to walk past them, but cocked her head to the side at the loud sounds she heard coming from the castle. She turned back to her banner men. "Do you two have any idea what's going on?"

The men walked closer to her side, shrugging their shoulders. From behind them, two Frey guards appeared, and tapped them on the shoulders. "Your Grace," they greeted with no smile, "why are you not in the great hall?"

"You are to follow us, Your Grace," the other said.

Freya watched them reach forward, attempting to grab her, but she pulled back on her hand. "I'm not sure if I want to follow you." She seethed through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

"Any person who wants to grab our Queen, must go through her banner men," the tall man beside her added.

Everyone around her was quiet for a moment, and then, without notice, the Frey men pulled out their swords. Freya's banner men hadn't had a moment to think before the Freys were slicing into them. She lifted her skirt, pulling her own sword from it's secret sheath. Though carrying a weapon was not ideal at a wedding, she wouldn't go anywhere without it.

Freya swung her sword, stabbing the first Frey right through the gut. She fought with the other. He tried to swing at her side multiple sides, but she eventually sliced his head from his neck. Blood squirted out and onto her dress, staining it as her mouth opened in surprised.

She looked around at the commotion. Something was happening, and she wasn't safe. Screams were heard from inside the castle. Grey Wind was growling ahead, but then his voice turned into a muffled whine. Freya tried to breathe for air she couldn't find. She held her chest, remembering how she left her husband alone in that hall.

She ran at such a fast speed that it scared her. Screams echoed from inside the castle, and she sprinted for the doors. Her sword was heavy in her hand, and it dripped with Frey blood. When she saw a group of Frey soldiers appear from the darkness, she whipped her blade out, putting up a fight with the three of them. She killed them all, without any ounce of regret.

Sweat formed on her brow as she hid behind a parade of barrels. She supposed she was tiny enough to hide amongst them. Freya tried to slow her breathing, but it was hard when she noticed that she was near Grey Wind's cage. He was silent now, and she looked down, seeing him lay there in a pool of blood. Freya's hand went to her mouth to muffle her cries.

"FREYA!"

Her name was heard from inside the castle, even through the heavy doors. Freya breathed loud and cried. Tears poured from her lids like a stream. She heard an army of Frey men order, "Find the Queen. Find Freya Stark."

Her arm thrust out when she felt someone beside her. When Freya turned, her eyes went wide at the sight of a broken and battered Arya Stark. She was surprised she even recognized her, because she looked so different now as to how she looked at Winterfell. Freya barely saw her at Winterfell anyways, due to Arya thinking her to be a "sea witch."

"Freya," Arya whispered, "Freya Greyjoy."

Freya didn't say a word. She only blinked rapidly and put a finger to her lips.

More Frey men passed their hide-out, but the two girls remained quiet. "Are you ..." Arya murmured very softly, "are you ... the Queen they're looking for?"

Freya slowly turned to Arya and nodded. They were both crying then. Arya tried to make an escape to go inside the castle, but Freya pulled on her arm quickly. As the two girls stood, a large man grabbed hold of Arya. Freya swung her sword, and she missed, so it only touched the tip of a man's armor. The tall man looked down at her sadly. "It's too late," he told Arya.

Before Freya could stop it, he knocked out Arya and cradled her over his shoulder. Freya pulled up her hood quickly, tugging on the man's armor roughly. "You have to take me with you, wherever you're going." She practically begged, looking back at the entrance. She couldn't save them now; it was too late. The screams had died out.

The man turned, and in the torch light, Freya finally saw the other half of his face was burnt off. Sandor Clegane, she realized. The Hound, in the flesh.

"Aren't you the Queen?" He said, rather loudly. Freya shushed him. "I'd rather not carry around a woman with a death warrant."

"You're carrying around Arya Stark," she countered, "who I've heard is wanted by Cersei Lannister."

Sandor looked at Freya with a grim expression. She lowered her sword, repeating sternly, "You will take me with you."

The Hound rolled his eyes, but handed Freya his larger cloak regardless, Freya put it over her own, and the hood hid her features completely. The three of them marched off until, eventually, Sandor found a horse and small carriage. He climbed on top of the horse and held Arya in his arms, as well as a Frey flag to disguise them. Freya hid in the carriage, covering herself in various cloaks and cloths.

Sandor began to ride their horse to escape the Crossing, but it seemed he was stuck at a dead end. Freya slowly peaked out from her covers, witnessing the whole Stark encampment go up in flames. Each and every banner man was burning alive. Their screams echoed into the air. Tears were drying on her face as everything she had was being taken from her fingertips, and it wasn't like she had anymore family to turn to anyways.

"THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

Sandor turned their horse towards a group of Frey banner men chanting into the burning camp. They laughed and shouted along with their tune. It was then that Freya caught the sight of what they were chanting for.

They pulled a horse forward, and on top sat her husband's bloody body. It no longer had a head, but instead, Grey Wind's was sewn on. Freya had to muffle her sobs with her hand over her mouth at just the sight.

"Here comes the King in the North!" A Frey man shouted.

"Would be even better if we find and fuck his Queen!" Another laughed.

Freya didn't know if she could cry anymore. She hid herself beneath the covers of the carriage again, realizing that she couldn't look any longer. She still heard the shouts in her ears, causing her to hold her hands over them. She was slowly losing her mind, and she somewhat wished she had stayed so they could kill her anyways.

And just as Freya could smell a Stark flag burning, Sandor finally rode the horse out of the war-torn encampment.