The Serving Girl

Arya was wearing her face. The face of the girl Lady Catelyn Stark brought into the world, the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.

They did not know her here at the Twins, and being ignored was quite easy when the castle was in chaos.

Six days past she had finally killed Lord Walder, after killing two of his sons as well. She had thought she might invite the Freys back to the castle and live as Lord Walder, but she had realized rather quickly it would not be practical, for she knew nothing of ruling the Twins, nor could she stand to wear the face of the man responsible for the deaths of mother and Robb.

Yet she didn't need to either she found. After Lord Walder had been found dead, many Freys had been returning to the castle…

And they hated each other she found. No less than four Freys had been outright killed by other Freys since she had been there, while she had herself killed seven more. Eight I should make it by the end of the night, she thought. I am Lann the Clever reborn with teats.

The man who had taken the place of Lord Walder was a man named Ryman, but Arya had poisoned both his sons, and he had spent half his time inconsolable in his grief, while the rest he angrily vowed revenge.

She had killed the Maester as well, and one of the two she killed originally had been the steward she had learned, which had thrown the entire household into chaos. Most the castle was dressed in black in mourning of Lord Walder, as today he had been laid to rest.

They were holding a feast tonight, though it did not seem much different from the others she had seen, little grief was expressed among the castle. In truth, most would not have even cared if Lord Walder had died given his age, and it was only the others who had died as well, and the fact that he had been murdered that troubled them to even return to the Twins.

As she went about pouring wine as they feasted, she noticed one of the weasels was stealing glances at her, and once when he did, she made sure she was looking at him, and blushed in response. He could only have been a year or two older than her, one of the more muscular of Lord Walder's brood, and one of the only few to be even a little handsome, though still having a weasel like appearance. He had light brown hair, and blue eyes.

Yet her attention was distracted by one of the older and larger men calling for more wine which she attended to. As she poured, she did not fail to note the man staring at her breasts. She thought back to her time at Winterfell, where oft as not she saw the men while eating would oft as not flirt with the serving wenches.

Arya looked back the boy, and saw him staring emptily at the food before him. Oh yes, she thought, I know just what to do with him. She continued to go about pouring wine for those whose cups had been drained, and collected a knife along the way, before she finally noted he had finished his cup, and went over to him.

"Will m'lord be wanting more wine?" She asked him.

"M'lord would be wanting you." He told her, running his hand along the curve of her hips. Arya looked at it, and began guiding it towards her breast, giggling as she did so, where he let her fondle it a little, until he move to pull it out from her loose dress, at which point she slapped it away.

"Not here, m'lord." She scolded.

The Frey boy scowled at that. He's good at that, she allowed. When she finished pouring the wine, she set down the skin she had using on the table. "Surely there is somewhere else we can go." She said, putting her hand on the inside of his thigh. She wondered if he'd known ever women, if so, she would be the last.

He rose at that. The weasel was nearly a foot taller than her if Arya was to judge, as he began to lead her out of the hall. They were not far from the exit, and he did not seem to be of much importance either, so none took a particular interest in them as they left. Good, I may be able to keep wearing my own face once this is done, she thought to herself.

"Does m'lord have a name that he is called?" She asked him.

"Elmar," he replied to her as he opened a door, to what she guessed to be his bedchambers. He directed her in, and she caught a glimpse of the room, before she heard the door close behind her, and she turned around. "What are you called?" He asked her, as he began to fumble at the laces of her garb, and within moments it was starting to fall off her.

"Arya." She replied instinctively, before realizing her mistake, and leaving her unable to grab the knife from her clothes as they fell away revealing her nude body, leaving her to only be to fumble at the laces of his garb.

"Arya…" He echoed, somewhat sadly. "I was to wed a princess once, she was called Arya too, though most like she died in some ditch down in Flea Bottom."

Oh, Arya thought. Before she could even think to grab the knife though, he was shaking off the last of his clothes, and was lifting her onto the bed, away from the knife concealed within her clothes. No, she thought sadly at her foiled plans, as it was only moments before she found herself on the fur covered featherbed, with Elmar kissing her lips.

She felt his cock enter her, which filled her with a mixture of pain and pleasure, as he began making love to her, thrusting himself into her, while Arya could not resist.

Only when he felt him release within her that he finally stopped, filling her with something warm she felt, as he rolled off of her.

Arya shuddered as he had finished. I ought to cut his throat for that, she thought to herself, he she wondered. He could not have been little more than a boy back then, he must have played no role in Robb and mother dying. And if Lord Walder wasn't so treacherous she would have been wed to him, yet all the same he had claimed her maidenhead.

She didn't have much time to think about it though before Elmar took her again, spending himself within her less quickly than he had the first time.

When he was done, rather than laying down, she got up and began to clean herself, while he remained in bed, watching her. Arya blushed a little to feign herself as just another serving girl, before she began to dress herself.

"Where are you going?" He asked her, rising as he did so. His manhood was still wet and dripping she did not fail to note.

"I have duties to perform." She told him.

"You can do your duties here." Elmar suggested.

"No I have to leave." Arya replied, feeling her eyes were starting to water a little.

"Stay with me. You could be my princess. My father is not here to object to such a match, and it would be better than having to become a septon." He said, grabbing her arm.

Arya grabbed the knife she had hidden in her clothes, and put it to his throat. "No. I am not your princess. I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn who your father had killed and you will unhand me, or I will cut your throat like I did to father."

Elmar's face turned to that of shock and disbelief. "I…." He began to fumble, while he quickly released her hand, though Arya did not remove the knife from his throat.

I ought to just cut his throat and leave it at that, Arya thought to herself, though she couldn't do it.

"Don't come looking for me, else I will kill you." She finally managed, before she lowered the knife, and walked out the door. She wiped away a tear as she closed the door behind her, wondering what she had become.

I'm a Stark of Winterfell, she thought to herself, that was where she belonged. Yet Winterfell belonged to the Boltons from what she had heard, and Sansa was married to Lord Bolton's bastard who had finished off Stannis in the snow almost a year past.

Sansa needs me, Arya quickly realized. And Jon wouldn't be so far away either.

Arya found herself wandering the castle of the Twins. She needed to change her face, she knew, else Elmar would recognize her, but with her own face she had found getting around the castle was hardly a challenge.

She began to head towards the Maester's chambers, deciding she would need Moon Tea to ensure her belly did not grow with Elmar's bastard.

Once she got to the chambers, she heard the Maester was still speaking to someone. She listened in from outside the door, realizing she would need to sneak in later tonight.

"Winterfell has fallen. Truly?" The Frey asked.

"It has. Lord Stannis took it from the Boltons, it is said, aided by the Young Wolf's bastard brother. Lord Roose and his bastard are dead, skinned by the bastard's widow, who fed Lady Walda and her babe to the dogs to secure her own son's claim to the Dreadfort." The Maester replied.

Jon has retaken Winterfell, Arya thought to herself, as she turned away from the chambers. Sansa must be there too, she realized. But she would not feed a woman and her babe to her dogs.

"These are grave tidings. Lord Stannis will be continuing south, no doubt, and with the Tullys that the Kingslayer allowed to go North… I must needs get some rest to think on this."

Arya moved away from the door as the man the Maester was speaking with exited. When he was gone enough, Arya peered through the cracked door. The Maester must also have retired from the night, which left his stores unattended.

She walked in silently, where the letter from Winterfell laid on the table, which she quickly put in her pocket, and snuck out.

The way around the castle had come easily to Arya, and she made her way back to the room she had been sleeping in rather quickly. She began to put on some of her warmer clothes for travel, and packed what little she had been keeping with her.

Most of what she packed was food, with a few clothes. She keep Needle hidden away, still, but what was most important were Robb's bones, which she had found in the Lord's chambers, no doubt as a keepsake by the Late Lord Frey.

He belongs in the crypts, she thought angrily. It was a bitter thought, thinking of the brother who would carry her to bed when she misbehaved during dinner, or would go around the castle with her on his back or carry her when she was too tired to walk was now just bones that while heavy, she herself could carry around. When she was done packing, she left her chambers, hardly looking back, and snuck off to the stables, where she found herself a horse.

She wore the garb of a Frey, so, none stopped her as she walked out, since Freys had been coming and going frequently for days.

Once she found a horse that she would use for her packs, she found another that was already saddled, and began to ride off into the night beneath the full moon, setting forth along the Kingsroad that she had followed south so many years ago.

Author Notes:

Here is my fic at it's most fixery

Jeez the Massacre of the Freys was terrible. Logistically impossible and a huge betrayal of the source material and thematic message of the books and the show to this point as a whole.

The first five chapters are being rewritten a little bit, at the moment and keep an eye out over the next few days for those. When next chapter drops (I'm not making any promises as to when), you'll probably want to reread from the very beginning.

Happy New Years everyone

Thank you guys for all the reviews, follows and favorites, and as always new ones are much appreciated.

This is a public service announcement: ASOIAF is not owned by LordStark5