Perhaps It Will Be Alright

So this is Arya Stark, Talisa thought to herself as she and her company rode. They had taken the horses from the dead Lannister soldiers, and found some others on the road. She hadn't wanted to steal from anyone, but Ser Brynden would not hear it, and neither would the Hound or Arya.

Her good-sister disturbed Talisa. She was nice enough, but the way she had killed that man at the inn? And there was a look in her eyes, almost like she enjoyed it. Talisa hoped to fix that when they found Jon Stark. Robb had mentioned how Arya was closest to Jon. Maybe he could help her.

The Hound had joined them after she promised to pay him well for his help. Where she would actually get the money from, she did not know. Right now, though, they needed all the help they could get and Sandor Clegane was very good with a sword.

They were heading East, past the Eyrie and to the shore. Hopefully, they could find a ship willing to take them to Eastwatch-By-the-Sea. It would make their trip much easier. They would no longer have to worry about pursuit or waking up to find the enemy holding a sword to their throat. Just a quick journey across the sea, and they would find their destination.

Talisa slowed her horse down, letting the Hound and Arya catch up to her. Although they rarely spoke to one another, the two remained close in this group of strangers. Talisa couldn't begrudge them; she'd felt the same when she married Robb.

She smiled at Arya, who returned it halfheartedly. The younger girl had not warmed up entirely to her yet. "Can you tell me about your brother, Jon?" she asked her.

Arya looked at her curiously. They still had not told her why they were going to Castle Black, or what they planned to do afterwards. Talisa was still in conflict over whether it would be better to tell both Arya and Jon at the same time, or let Arya in on it now.

"He's quiet and solemn. He's kind to me and he understood me better than anyone else. He was never irritated with me like Sansa was. He gave me Needle," she said, tapping the hilt of her little sword.

"He sounds like a good man."

"He is." Arya's answer came immediately after Talisa finished speaking. Her eyes were suspicious now, as if she wasn't sure whether Talisa was insulting her brother or complimenting him.

"I'm sorry. Did I offend you?" The girl's devotion to her half-brother was strange. Talisa doubted many trueborn children were as fond of their bastard brothers as Arya was of hers.

Arya let out a long sigh. "No, it's just that... many disliked Jon because he was a bastard, my mother especially. I didn't really see why. I mean, I guess it makes sense for my mother to hate him. But no one else knew him. What right did they have to judge him because of something my father did?"

Talisa gave her a nod of understanding. "You're mother hated me when I married Robb. I knew why, but I didn't understand why she couldn't be happy for her son and just accept me." It is all because I could not love a motherless child, Lady Stark had told her when they had been riding back to Riverrun for Lord Hoster's funeral. They'd talked about Jon that day.

"Did- did they ever talk about me? My mother and Robb?" Arya's voice was soft and low, almost like she was afraid of the answer.

She smiled reassuringly at the younger girl, although the subject made her feel uncomfortable. "They did." Not all the time. "They were very concerned for you." They grieved you. "They wanted to find you." They thought you were dead.

Arya took on a thoughtful look. She was quiet for some time, preferring to ride in silence. Talisa made no move to continue speaking with her; if Arya wanted to keep to herself, then she was fine with that.

The landscape around them changed. It was no longer a forest, with trees lining the sides of the road. Hills stretched before them, green with grass. There were rocky outcroppings, some jagged, others smooth. The distance was hazy with fog, which swirled and writhed in the cool air. They were getting closer to the Eyrie, though they had no intention of stopping there.

"Why will we not stop at the Bloody Gate? My mother's sister is there," Arya had said when they told her of their plan to go to Eastwatch.

"Because your aunt Lysa will not help us. Ser Brynden served her for many years, and he says she is not well." She left out the part where, later, after Talisa herself had pressed Ser Brynden to take them to the Eyrie, he had told her of Lysa's great jealousy of Catelyn Stark, and how she was nearly mad. Yes, they would avoid Lady Lysa at all costs.

Talisa guessed that Arya knew as well as she did that they were nearing the Bloody Gate. She worried that the girl would leave them, would try to make her own way in the world. If that was the case, Talisa doubted she'd be able to stop it. Arya had the Hound on her side, even if neither of them were willing to admit it. Why else would he keep her with him for all this time? They hadn't thought of Lysa Arryn on their own, she knew.

Ser Brynden halted them after riding for some time more. He dismounted and led his horse off the road and near one cluster of rocks. The others did the same, Talisa with the help of Cal. She thanked him, taking the reins of her horse and mimicking Ser Brynden. Arya and the Hound stayed a ways off, though they did the same.

When the horses were tied up securely, and they deemed this area safe for now, they began making camp. Talisa and Arya set out the furs they would sleep on, sitting upon them to speak. The others bustled around their little camp, some cooking, others doing the same as Arya. Cal was given the duty of keeping watch, which he got to immediately. Ser Brynden did, too, not trusting anyone's eyes but his own with the safety of his queen.

"What do you think the Lord Commander will do," Arya began hesitantly, after having spent some time in silence, "when we come? Will he welcome us? And can we really get Jon to join us? I mean, he has probably taken his vows by now. He's sworn to serve for life. Deserters are executed." There was hint of fear in Arya's voice.

Talisa tried her best to soothe the young girl. "It's alright. We'll figure something out. I'm sure that your brother will be fine."

"Will he be the father to your baby then?" The question was sudden, and she had not been expecting it. She was shocked, unsure how exactly to answer.

A half truthful answer would be yes, Jon Stark will be the father of her baby. But if she was being truthful, then the answer would be perhaps. Her child would grow up only knowing Jon Stark, never knowing Robb. A selfish part of her wanted to keep her child away from Jon Stark, so they would see no one as their father except Robb, from the stories Talisa would tell. But that would be cruel; every child should have a father, her child especially.

It wasn't just because they needed someone else to care for them. She wasn't very familiar with the politics of the North, or Westeros for that matter. Her child would be heir to the North, to Winterfell - once they reclaimed it. They needed someone to raise them who could teach them their ways, and prepare them for their duty.

Jon Stark was the son of Eddard Stark. Robb had told her that his half-brother had been raised the same as Robb, learning the ways of lordship. He knew the people of the North, and the people would trust him. He knew how to run a castle, how to dispense justice. He knew everything they needed to rule the North, and there was probably no one better for her child to learn from.

But Arya would probably not understand this, or would grow angry with this. So Talisa decided to reply simply, and to say, "Yes, he will be the father of my child." She felt little guilt at the half-truth (or was it half-lie?). She wasn't hurting anyone with it, just keeping things from seeming more complicated than they were.

Arya nodded her approval. "Good. Jon will be a great father. And king." She smiled fondly, as if recalling some far away memory.

"What?" Talisa asked, a small smile creeping upon her lips at the way Arya's eyes lightened considerably.

"It's just... " The young one trailed off, searching for words to explain her thoughts. "When I was younger, Robb took me, Sansa, Bran, and Rickon into the crypts of Winterfell. We were going looking at some of the older Kings in the North when Jon jumped out, covered in flour and appearing for all the world like a ghost. Rickon cried and Sansa screamed, and they both ran out. Bran was scared at first, and he wouldn't let go of Robb's leg, but he got over it and laughed with the rest of us."

"And you?" Talisa asked her, amused by this little story. Robb had told her very little of when he was a child.

Arya gave her a wide grin. "Me? I hit Jon and called him stupid for scaring me." They laughed together, sounding more like two children than a queen and a princess.

Breathlessly, Talisa managed to say, "What happened next?" She lost her smile when Arya hers. A sad look came over her face, and her eyes were downcast.

"Sansa ran and told Mother. She was angry with Jon for making Rickon cry and scaring the others." Her voice was small, no longer as sure and brave as it was before. "It was Robb's idea," she added quietly.

Of course. It would always come back to Catelyn Stark. That was one of the few things they had in common - the scorn and dislike of the late Lady Stark. She had never forgiven Talisa for the fault of being the woman that Robb had broken a vow for. She had never forgiven Jon for being the product of her husband's broken vow. And now she was dead, while two of those that she hated most lived on.

"I'm sorry," Talisa murmured to her goodsister, though for what, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe for taking away the little laughter they had finally found. Maybe for the punishment Jon Stark was given but did not deserve. Or maybe it was for reminding the poor girl that only her half-brother remained to her, and all the others were dead.

Arya gave a short nod, staring at the ground before her. The happy mood was gone now, replaced once again with reality and its problems. Talisa would curse the gods for bringing such bad luck upon them, for making their family suffer, but what good would that do? The gods had answered none of her prayers, why would they respond to her curses?

Talisa had woken the next morning to find most of their group gone. In fact, only the Hound and Arya remained with her. Arya explained that Ser Brynden and the others left to scout around the area, searching for anything useful. They had all gone in different directions, she told Talisa, so no threats could get past them.

With little else to do, she set to busying herself by packing away their campsite. She gathered their furs, folded them up and placed them together. She prepared their meager servings of food to make a breakfast of sorts for her three companions. When that was done, she saw to it that the food was saddled on two of the horses, who were watched closely, in case they managed to get loose.

As she did this, Arya unsheathed tiny Needle. Talisa watched, transfixed, as Arya began to practice... whatever it was she was practicing. She had seen the men in Robb's army do similar things, had seen Robb himself practicing sometimes. But the way Arya moved was incredible. Her movements were quick but flowed together, appearing more like she was dancing and not practicing to fight.

Arya had briefly mentioned a dancing master in King's Landing. Talisa had assumed that meant a teacher that taught her how to dance. It seemed that Arya had a different sort of dancing in mind.

Smiling to herself as she realized her mistake, Talisa turned back to her work. She was trying to sharpen the dagger she carried with herself now, in the way the Blackfish had taught her. It was a bit difficult; she'd never touched a blade like this before in her life. She'd used the saws she brought with her to amputate the wounded, but she'd never had to actually use a blade for anything other than that. Now, things were different.

She was about ready to give up and ask Arya for help, who was talking with the Hound, when she heard Arya say, "People coming." Then, to the Hound, she said, "You can shit later. There's people coming." Talisa lifted her head, standing in an instant and stepping closer to the other two.

A man - no, a large woman - approached carefully. The woman had blonde hair, and was dressed in mail and armor. A sword hung at her waist, and her expression was one of curiosity. She appeared to be alone, but Talisa wasn't willing to count on that.

"Morning," the woman greeted them. Her eyes took in Arya, dressed as a boy, and Talisa, wearing torn clothes and looking like a beggar. Arya, it seemed, had finished her exercise, and was pointing Needle at the woman.

"Morning," Talisa replied carefully. Arya did the same, a bit more guardedly than Talisa.

"Are we getting closer to the Bloody Gate?" She asked Talisa. So she was not traveling alone.

Talisa pointed in the direction. "About ten more miles," she told the stranger.

The woman turned her head to the boy that was now in their sight.. "Did you hear that Podrick? It's only ten more miles to the Bloody Gate."

This is a weird place to end this chapter, but I wanted to keep the more important Brienne (and Pod, we can't forget Pod) parts in the next chapter. Why, you might ask? Because I said so, that's why.

Watch this video on YouTube, called "Roose Change: The Lannister Honeypot" about Robb and Talisa. It will blow your mind. Watch it. I'll leave a link on my profile page.