"Are you sure this is a smart decision?" Visenya asks Robb, grasping his arm in her hand. Her grip is shaky, unlike the astute assuredness she's had in every plan Robb had. This isn't tricking Tywin Lannister 5o take Jaime Lannister prisoner. This is a political game of intrigue, and Walder Frey is a wild card. He'd been slighted by Robb when he married Talisa instead of the old Frey's daughter. And from what Visenya gathered about the old bastard is that he doesn't easily forget an insult. And is often a cowardly man that had no problem switching sides. As much as it pains Visenya to admit, they're losing the war right now.

"Everything will work out, Vis. With Frey's men - and your battle ferocity - we'll get vengeance for my father and bring home my sisters." He gently grasps her shoulder, a boyish smile appearing on his face. For the first time since his father's death, she notices a glint in his eyes, a small spark of mischief. She simply nods in reply, painting a forced smile on her face - hoping it would appear light-hearted. Robb, seemingly buying it - moved his hand from her shoulder, clapping her on the back.

"Right. Wouldn't have gotten this far without me, am I right?" She sarcastically quips, shoving him lightly. He stumbles from the force of the shove, his eyes comically widen and his mouth agape. Visenya simply snorts and rolls her eyes at his exaggerated reaction, a small smirk playing on her lips. The small spark of mischief in his eyes from earlier ignites into a roaring fire. The stern and grim Robb that began to form during the rebellion breaks, leaving the young, mischievous boy he was in Winterfell.

"You would dare lay a hand on your king?" he taunts, managing to straighten himself.

"Well maybe if his grace wasn't so slow, I wouldn't be able to." Viseyna taunts back, pushing back some stray pieces of silver hair that pulled free from her braid.

"Are you implying I've grown old? Dearest Vis, you're older than me," he replies, laughing near the end of his sentence. The sound warms her heart, happy to see the boy she thinks of as a brother forgetting about the pressure of being king.

"Not at all. I'm simply saying you've gotten fat. If you're not careful, you'll start to look like Robert Baratheon." She quips, pulling her cloak closer to herself. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe someone wants your attention." She says, motioning to Talisa, who was approaching her husband. With a single nod in the woman's direction and a sly smirk towards Robb, Visenya turns from the pair, moving to find Lady Catelyn. Her fur cloak dramatically flares behind her, something Visenya always secretly enjoys doing.

'I hope you're right about this Robb.' Visenya nervously thinks to herself, staring at all the Stark soldiers that currently surround her.

Screams echo around Visenya as the men surrounding her are brutally butchered by the Frey's. A few of them attempt to fight back, but most are so drunk that even if the slaughter hadn't taken them by surprise they never stood a chance. For a split second, she locks eyes with Robb, as he falls down from the multiple crossbow bolts that were shot at him from above. Talisa lays dead on the ground with blood pouring from her abdomen. Her death was the start of the slaughter.

"Visenya!" Visenya vaguely hears Robb weakly shouting. The noises around her dull as ringing echoes in her mind. With each passing second, her mind slowly locks away inside her own mind. The horror around her is too real for Visenya to allow herself to acknowledge it. "Visenya!" he shouts again. This time she manages to notice him. Her purple eyes flit to him as she dodges a Frey soldier attempting to stab her with his dagger. In a trance, she brings a hand up and slaps the dagger from his hand, taking out her own dagger and stabbing him in the abdomen; a clean kill. Her eyes never strayed from Robb's. He falls to the ground with a thud as another bolt sinks into his skin. Running on instinct and pure adrenaline, she rushes towards him, avoiding any bodies - both alive and dead - in her way. In a single fluid movement, she drives to her knees, grabbing onto Robb's shaking hands.

"Get Greywind and get out!" he mutters, his eyes glazing over as he struggles to breathe. Her eyes are soaked from the tears that began pouring. She grips onto Robb tighter, shaking her head in defiance. The situation finally sinking in, Robb is going to die and Visenya couldn't do anything about it.

"I'm not leaving you!" She vehemently protests, her voice much louder than Robb's strained rasp. Her tears become more aggressive, leaking onto Robb's cloak. The screams continue to echo around Visenya. "I told you this was a bad idea! Why didn't you listen to me you idiot!" Visenya yells at him, her words cracking at odd syllables from her sobbing.

"Go." he hoarsely says, attempting to pry her hands off of him. Visenya, no longer able to speak anymore simply vigorously shakes her head in disagreement. Robb manages to remove her stone grip from himself, pathetically pushes her away. "Go," he says. "Go and save my sisters."

She pathetically falls to the ground, not trying to fight him anymore. She's brought out of her daze when a soldier rushes towards her, weapon at the ready. A piercing scream leaves her mouth as she grabs his blade with her bare hands, the sharpness cutting her hands deeply, but she doesn't notice. With a strength she doesn't normally possess, she jerks the blade to the left, throwing the man off his balance and to the ground. In a haze of bloodlust and rage, she climbs on top of the man, viciously stabbing him until he no longer moves. Shortly after she climbs off the dead body, now wielding her dagger and the dead soldier's shortsword, another soldier rushes her. Visenya just steps to the side. She picks up a fork from the ground and throws it behind her. The prongs of the fork pierce into the man's eyes as he screams out in pain.

Purple eyes dart around the chaotic room, looking for any signs of an exit. The main door is locked, keeping anyone from entering or leaving the hall. The number of Stark soldiers were rapidly dimming with each breath Visenya took. For each Frey soldier she took down, they killed 4 northern soldiers. Another soldier, smarter than the others, attempted to shoot at her from a distance. The bolt pierced her right shoulder, momentarily bringing her out of her daze. Without a moment of hesitation, she grabs a dagger from a nearby dead soldier and flings it at the soldier with the crossbow. It sticks in his left thigh, the man crumpling immediately.

"Fuck!" she shouts out, the stress of the situation finally dawning on her. However, by divine intervention or otherwise, she notices something out of the corner of her eye. A figure rushing through an opening of sorts. Due to the mayhem in the room, no one else seems to notice. Visenya isn't sure if the opening will lead or outside or further into the keep, but it's her only option. With the speed and ferocity of a direwolf, she sprints towards her only chance of safety. She no longer focuses on killing the soldiers in her way but instead just dodging them. Each second is precious if she's to survive this wedding, and it can't be wasted killing an enemy soldier.

Vengeance later, safety now.

Stepping through the opening she notices it leads to the ramparts of the keep. Visenya bull rushes her way through it, sword and dagger clutched in their respective hands. The cool air that hits her face brings hope. However the sounds of more screams filling her ears, reminding her that this nightmare is far from over. Fire dances in her eyes as the Frey men burn the tents in their camp. The loud cheers of the soldiers pierces through the screams echoing in the camp. Visenya, from her spot in the ramparts, watches the figures dancing around the fires, momentarily pausing to beat down the odd soldier who'd survived. Her reverie is broken when the distant sound of a woman's mangled scream from inside the hall reaches her.

Lady Catelyn.

This manages to pull Visenya from her mind, pushing her to act. Moving down the steps of the ramparts, she makes a mad dash to getaway. The only way out is through the burning camp. Bracing herself for the potential fights, the grip on her dagger tightens. The first soldier notices her and she flings the dagger. He manages to dodge away from it in time, but Visenya simply slashes at him with her sword when he closes in. On her way past him, she picks up her dagger not stopping at all. The surroundings pass in a blur, nearly away from the carnage. Then she hears it.

"The King in the North!" a crowd of men shout in a mocking tone. Visenya stops mid-stride, turning around to see. For a single, stupid moment, she has a sliver of hope. Perhaps Robb managed to escape and his men are rallying to him. The sight before her is something far worse. A group of Frey men were gathered around a horse that has a figure resting on it. However, it's head has been replaced with a direwolf; Greywind's head to be specific.

Robb.

The jeering men parade his dead body around, laughing loudly as they do so. The tears that had momentarily dried on her face return full force; Visenya's legs failing her as she falls to the ground. She stares at the scene before her unblinking. Her mind screams at her to run, to get up and leave. But she feels paralyzed. She knew Robb was dead the moment his body fell to the ground, there was no chance he would make it out. But she wasn't prepared to see it; not like this. To watch his corpse, head cut off and replaced with Greywind's severed head, be paraded around the destroyed camp like a prized pony.

A bloodcurdling scream escapes her mouth as an unfamiliar warmth begins to fill her body. This draws the attention of a few nearby soldiers. Yet even as they approach, malicious grins on their faces and weapons ready to stab into her, she can't force herself to look away.

"Well if it isn't the Dragon Princess. Thought you could get away did ya?" one of them teases, most of his teeth rotted off. The ones that managed to cling to his gums were coal black. Visenya crawls backward attempting to make a getaway. She flings her dagger at him, but he easily knocks it away with his own dagger. The heat inside her steadily rises is temperature as a sense of dread sets in.

"You like the fire?" another man jeers. A bolt whizzes past him, piercing Visenya in the leg. She cries out in pain, clutching the wound as she continues to back away - much slower this time.

The fire continues to blaze inside of her, the temperature so scorching she can barely stand it.

"I bet ya she does. Call her Lightbringer they do." a third replies. He rushes forward, grasping her injured leg in his dirty hands. She attempts to kick him, but with the adrenaline fading so does her strength. A sob escapes her mouth as the man pulls him towards her.

"Where's your light now princess." the first once mockingly asks. Another bolt whizzes towards them, landing in Visenya's chest. The light around her slowly fades away, a dull pain pulsing in her as the men around her begin to gut her with their blades.

The fire inside her becoming unbearable. She lets out another ear-piercing scream as the intense heat escapes. She's conscious long enough to watch as fire erupts from her, throwing everyone in the vicinity to the ground form the force of the blast as the fire charres their corpses.

The last thing she sees before falling into darkness is the fire illuminating her surroundings and Robb's dead body.

The sound of birds cawing this distance is the first thing to register in her brain. Visenya lifts her head out of a pool of mud her head was lying on. She's dazed as she takes in her unfamiliar surroundings.

A forest. A dark, empty forest.

She slowly pulls her body up from a lying position, opting to lean against a nearby tree. The last thing she can remember is the slaughter at the wedding and the fire that killed all the nearby Frey men. The heat that was bubbling inside her previously is gone, the cool breeze a welcomed change to the fire. This forest isn't like any forest she'd ever been in, and certainly not The Twins. It was dark and cold. The trees tower over her small form, acting as a barrier between her and the sunlight. Birds caw in the distance, but other than that, it's completely silent. She grabs her leg, where one of the crossbow bolts had pierced her. The area is surrounded by her dried blood, but the wound seems completely healed.

She crawls over to a puddle of murky water, intending to clean off the blood. Visenya pauses as she stares at her reflection. The figure is the same person. Silver hair tangled and matted, pale skin that currently looks sullen. However, her eyes are unfamiliar. Her once bright purple eyes that always gleamed with mischief were dull and...amber? She reaches a hand out towards the puddle, touching where it was reflecting her eyes. Removing her hand from the water, she simply watches the water ripple for a moment.

'I need to find a nearby town, maybe get some answers.' she thinks to herself.

On impulse, Visenya reaches both hands into the murky water, grabbing some of the mud that was on the bottom. Without a moment of hesitation, she begins coating her silver hair in the mud as a means of disguising the color. The Twins or not, silver hair would be a dead giveaway that she's a Targaryen. She unclasps her cloak, holding it in front of her. It's a deep blue, with red thread detailing. One side had a direwolf and the other a dragon, each side has a embroidered flower vine adding a feminine touch. It was a nameday gift from Sansa. She'd cherished it closely before, but with everything that happened to the Stark's, she held it closer to her. She contemplated leaving it behind, not wanting anything that could identify her as Visenya Targaryen, but she didn't have the heart. Instead, she simply flipped the cloak to the other side. She can feel tears welling up in her eyes, the recent trauma catching up to her. Before her emotions can get the better of her, she swiftly stands to her feet, set on finding civilization.

She was wandering through the forest for an unknown amount of time before she heard something other than birds. The distant sound of people talking. Visenya picks up her speed, eager to be around other people. She breaks through the forest and sees a road. She rushes towards it and begins following it. After just a few moments of a slow jog, she finds herself at the entrance of a small town. People mill around, doing their daily tasks and working. As she enters the town, people stop and stare at her. She forces herself to be unconcerned, placing on the cold facade she often put on in Winterfell. Whenever visiting Lords would come to Winterfell, they often didn't make their strong opinions of her - more so her house - a secret. She notices there's a large building that most of the people are entering, and the people leaving it are obviously drunk.

Visenya enters the rowdy tavern, narrowly avoiding the drunk patrons that nearly run into her. She deftly avoids the barmaid that is carrying more drinks than she can handle. The stench of state piss and vomit assaults her senses and her nose scrunches up in distates. Taverns are all the same no matter where you are. She swiftly approaches the bar, gaining the attention of the older man that appears to be the owner.

"Excuse me," Visenya says. "Where am I?" she asks. The man sets down his glass, taking a moment to size her up.

"Blaviken." he gruffly says, eyeing her suspiciously. Visenya's eyes move to the barmaid who was currently fighting off some drunken patrons who were getting too handsy.

Blaviken. She'd never heard of this place before. This whole day has been bizarre so far, and Visenya doesn't know if she can keep up.

"Get your hands off!" she shouts, smacking one of them with a serving tray. She lets out a huff of annoyance as she walks away from them. The lecherous men obnoxiously laugh as she leaves, unbothered by her reaction.

"Looking to hire another server?" Visenya asks, returning her gaze to the man. He looks her over once more, contemplating the offer.

"You any good?" he asks.

"I'm a fast learner." she quickly replies and leans against the counter. "Tell you what, I'll work for free for room and board."

"Deal." the man instantly replies, holding his dirty hand out for her to shake. She takes his hand in hers. "What's your name girl?" he asks. Visenya's mind blanks for a moment, not sure if she should tell him her real name.

"Jane." she simply replies.