1It was a grand event. Young Dalayna was lucky to get in. Had Lady Catelyn not been partial to her, she would still be tending to the Lady's room in Riverrun. The food was grand, wine and ale abundant, as well as drunken fools. Dalayna knew the two always went hand in hand. It was common sense.
She rose from her seat at the back of the hall, and set course for Lady Stark's table. Catelyn was sipping lightly from her goblet, listening to Blackfish's tirade of ale-fueled nonsense with half of her attention. Dalayna approached slowly, and waited for an opening in the man's speech. When her chance arose while Blackfish drained his ale cup, she stepped forward with a delicate curtsy.
"M'lady Stark. I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to accompany you and His Grace to the wedding. It is a most grand occasion," she spoke, her voice light and flitting. Catelyn smiled, a nearly pitiful attempt given her misery and grief over the past weeks.
"I wouldn't have had you stay behind, dear girl. You're a good soul. And having you around is almost like having my Sansa back," she spoke, her once strong-yet-kind voice now raspy and waning. Her eyes grew sad at the thought of Sansa.
Dalayna had never met the girl, but was told many times by both King Robb and Lady Catelyn that they could've been twins, if it weren't for Dalayna's bright amber eyes. She was even mistaken for Sansa once, on her initial meeting with the Starks. Lady Catelyn had run to her, hugging her tightly, tears flowing freely. When she realized Dalayna was not actually hers, she let go, but that didn't prevent her from growing fond of her handmaiden.
"My Lady... don't be sad. This is a joyous occasion. The music is lively, the wine is swell, and the mutton is just divine-"
Catelyn scoffed and gave Dalayna a knowing look.
"Dalayna, you needn't lie. The wine is barely decent, and the mutton is charred. The music is quite entertaining though. I'm truly glad that you are enjoying yourself. Go be seated, now. I feel a speech is on the horizon."
"Yes, M'lady," Dalayna curtsied in farewell, retreating back to her table in the back.
As Catelyn predicted, there were speeches abound, and the horrible Bedding Ceremony was carried through. The bride and groom were lifted from their seats, high above the heads of the wedding party, and carried out of the hall, garments flying off of them as they sailed past. All this ruckus was amusing for the first hour or so, but ever so slowly, Dalayna grew quite tired of the noise. In all reality, she was sick of getting undressed by the eyes of Lord Frey and his men. How Lady Catelyn maintained her composure through the lusty glares and hushed conversations of the many different ways they would fuck her, Dalayna didn't know.
After the bride and groom were whisked away, Dalayna stood with her wine, and started to walk to the courtyard.
A hard hand gripping her shoulder stopped her in mid-step.
"The wedding party is to stay in the hall, miss. Take your seat," a guardsman rumbled to her, his helmet hiding his face, save for his mouth and chin.
"Apologies, ser. But I am in need of fresh air and some silence, be it ever so rare in this keep tonight. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Dalayna shrugged him off, quickening her pace to a near run, her lavender colored dress flowing in the breezy hall. As she started down the stairs to the courtyard, she noticed the increasing sounds of screaming.
"The King of the North? Hah! You and your boy-king should have stayed in Winterfell!" a deep voice hollered, echoing through the stone walls. Fear dripped into Dalayna, but a small bout of courage (or perhaps sheer stupidity, she wasn't sure) pushed her forward to see who was speaking, and more importantly, who was being attacked.
She stepped lightly to the corner that turned to the stairway, and peeked. The groom was curled on the ground, his face swollen and bloodied by the two guards standing over him.
The gasp she tried poorly to muffle escaped her lips, and the guards looked straight at her. Dalayna didn't hesitate, and ran back to the hall, the sound of music rising over the clatter of swords and boots, and the screaming. When she reached the hall doors, she pushed with all her might, and slipped inside. Everything was still calm in here. The musicians exchanged their jovial tunes for a somber ballad. One Dalayna knew well. A song of death. "The Rains of Castermere... by the gods," she breathed, and rushed forward to Catelyn's table. A familiar hand gripped her shoulder for the second time, this time followed by the tip of a dagger at the small of her back.
"Sit down. Quietly. And don't move," the gruff guard rumbled, forcing her into her seat. It was an ambush. One she never saw coming.
She stared across the hall at Catelyn, praying that the Lady would turn to look at her. But instead, Catelyn was focused on the man next to her. Ser Bolton looked at her, then down, Catelyn following his gaze. Suddenly she rose from the table, striking Bolton.
"Robb!" Catelyn screamed, pointing behind him. Dalayna followed her finger to Talisa. A soldier grabbed the new Queen of the North, and sank his blade into her swollen belly, stabbing and plunging it ever deeper. Before she knew it, all Hell broke loose. Arrows flew, blades were drawn. Screams echoed through the hall. And all the while, Lord Frey smiled and watched with glee.
As an arrow took Lady Stark down, Dalayna sprung into action. After years of growing up around thieves and murderers, she knew she could fight back to some extent. And the panic of losing her mistress and only friend was all the motivation she needed. The guard holding her in her seat gripped her hair, bringing the dagger up for a killing blow.
She lashed out with a knee to the groin, grabbing his sword as he fell back, and plunged it deep into his neck. His life's blood spilled quickly, pouring across the steel of her newfound blade.
She ducked under the tables, crawling quickly towards the front, where Catelyn lay, harboring her wound carefully. Bodies fell around her, one nearly on top of her as she struggled to get to Lady Stark. The death cries were growing fewer, which she knew that she had mere seconds to reach her destination. Catelyn finally looked up, her fear turning to bloodlust as Dalayna reached the table behind hers.
Dalayna put her sword down quickly, hands raised in mercy. Catelyn's demeanor calmed slightly, and she reached out for her handmaiden, but Dalayna shook her head.
"Stay there! And when I say run, you ru-"
Dalayna felt herself get pulled backwards, a guard no doubt. She swung back with her sword, cutting his face, then struck upwards, sinking her crimson weapon into his ribs. He fell quietly.
Dalayna finally joined Catelyn under her table as the room grew silent. Then Lord Frey spoke, "Ah, the King of the North arises."
The two women gazed as Robb shakily knelt by his fallen wife. Panic arose in Catelyn's eyes. She sprung out from under the table, knife in hand, and seized the Lord's young wife by her hair.
"Lord Walter!" she rasped. Dalayna scrambled out with her, raising her sword shakily, glaring down the soldiers near them. Robb stayed bowed down by Talisa, silently mourning the loss of his wife and unborn child.
"Let us go, and we shall forgive this! No harm shall come to you or your men, I swear it! By the old gods, and the new!" Lady Stark begged, her hand shaking as she held the knife against the poor girls throat.
"You've already broken one oath, who's to say you won't break another!" He calmly replied, sitting relaxed in his chair, seemingly without a care in the world.
"Then take me as a hostage! Just let my son go! Please! My first born son!"
Walter Frey stays quiet. Tears begin to fall from Catelyn. Dalayna steps slowly towards Robb as he stands.
"Robb, walk out! Walk out of here this instant! Please!" She wails, her eyes pleading.
"Dalayna, take him and go! Get him out!" Lady Stark rounded on Dalayna, shocking her with the order to leave.
"M'lady, I-" Dalayna tried to beg, but Catelyn wouldn't hear it.
"Go!" She ordered, and Dalayna obeyed. Soldiers moved towards Robb, one being Ser Bolton, swords at the ready. But Dalayna thwarted them, swinging her sword as she ran forward, backing them away. She put an arm around Robb's waist and guided him back towards the door, eyeing every standing body in the room.
"Girl! Hear these words as truth! If you dare leave this keep, you forfeit the your life, as well as the lives of Catelyn and Robb Stark!" Lord Frey hollered as she reached the door.
Catelyn replied for them, "And if you try to stop her, I swear, I will cut your wife's throat!"
Walter Frey glanced at Lady Stark, then shrugged.
"I'll find another."
Arrows flew from the balcony, all aimed for Dalayna and Robb. She threw her weight, pulling Robb with her, into the door, and it fell open. Robb struggled to stand, and she rose with him, taking one last glance at Catelyn.
"Mother!" Robb cried out, and she looked, her eyes full of hope, and resignation. She had cut the wife's throat. Ser Bolton appeared behind her, and drew his blade across her throat as well. A pair of screams echoed through the hall as Catelyn fell, her eyes almost instantly glazed with the veil of death.
Dalayna knew she had no time for hers or Robb's mourning, as the archers were readying their arrows for another onslaught. She pulled him away, running through the keep to the bridge.
"Get off me!" He sobbed, trying to pull away from the girl's grip. Dalayna turned to him, dropping her sword and grabbed his collar, pulling him close to her.
"I did not leave your mother to die, just to watch you die as well! Get your shit together, and run! She gave us our one chance to live, and I'll be damned if I let you throw that away! Now move your fucking legs, Stark!"
Robb's eyes fell, her words ringing in his ears as truth. He knew he must survive. But the pain, not from the arrows but from losing his family and loyal followers, it was damn near incapacitating. He put his arm around Dalayna's shoulders, and huffed, "Let's go."
They reached the bridge quickly, no guards meeting them there. As they reached the middle though, the doors on either side of the bridge burst open, guards pouring onto the bridge in hoards. They were surrounded.
Dalayna looked frantically around for an escape, Robb taking her sword and assuming a fighting stance as best he could manage.
"We have to jump!" Dalayna said, turning back to Robb.
"Are you mad?! We'll drown, unless we break our necks in the fall!" He cried, keeping a weather eye on the rushing swordsmen.
"Would you rather be butchered and humiliated?! We have to jump! Trust me!"
Robb gazed at the water below, readying his mind for the insanity that he was about to proceed with.
He placed the sword in his belt, and limped over to the wall.
"Okay, on three," he said, lifting his leg over.
Dalayna saw bows being raised and panicked.
"Three!" She cried as she leapt at Robb, tackling him over the wall. They held each other for dear life, falling for just a few seconds before they hit the cold, dark water below them. Robb struggled to find the surface, but found himself so tired, so unable to breathe.
Dalayna kicked for the surface, the rushing tide of the river carrying her away from Robb's still form. She grabbed onto the back of his shirt and broke the surface with him, both gasping for air.
"Stay low and quiet, we may be able to ride the river out of their reach," she gasped. Robb nodded, holding her halfheartedly. His wounds were many, and draining him slowly.
"Just a little ways more. Hold on, your grace," Dalayna pleaed as Robb's head lolled down.
"Don't... call me that... I'm no king..." he spluttered, then passed out.
Dalayna hoisted him closer, keeping his head above water. As they were whisked away, Dalayna started to realize her position in life. She was alone again. she would never see Catelyn Stark reunite with Sansa, or The Blackfish tell another war story, or meet the new little Lord or Lady Stark. All she had left to serve was Robb. And if he died in her arms tonight, where would she go? Who would she serve then? Where would she go? As she pondered these things, fatigue slowly took over, and she sank into sleep as the river washed them both away...