Fianna Bua, Lady of House Bua, never thought that she'd be riding off to war for the liege lord she hadn't even met.
But oaths are oaths, the Buas have fought alongside the Starks for centuries and she wasn't about to be hailed an oath breaker.
So w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Arya
She was so angry she was close to tears. The second she arrived at the Twins, Arya's intuitions were begging her to turn around and leave again. She wish she had listened.
Arya almost wished she had never met Fianna at Harrenhal, she missed her mother and brother dearly but returning to them only set in stone a betrothal she never thought she'd be forced into. Much less by her King brother.
She never wanted to marry, all she wanted to do was be a warrior. Her father had told her that one day she would be wed to a Lord, the thought of it had made her nauseous. The thought of marrying a measly Frey boy, made her homicidal.
A knock sounded against her door, which she promptly ignored. It was either Robb, her mother or Fianna and she didn't wish to talk to any of them at the moment.
Despite the fact Arya had ignored the knock, the door opened anyway and in entered Fianna, a remorseful look on her face.
"Go away," Arya immediately warned, seated at the window seat she stared out at the Stark camp, who were settling in.
"No," Fianna refused, much to her annoyance. Arya's head whipped around to glare at her good sister.
"I said, go away," she spoke again, but Fianna only approached her and sat on next to her on the window seat. "You must be deaf."
"I must be," Fianna conceded, smiling softly.
"If you're here to convince me-"
"No, I'm not here to do that. I'm here to see if you're okay," Fianna moved to place her hand on Arya's arm, but the younger girl quickly shrugged out of her reach.
"I'm fine, now piss off," Fianna sighed, running a hand through her long hair in frustration. Arya began to study her then when she was sure Fianna was looking out the window. Sansa would love her, she thought.
Arya always thought Fianna was alike with herself, being a sword-wielding warrior. But she could see now that she was a lot like Sansa too, with long, shiny hair and a pretty face. Fianna even changed into a dress for the wedding, one that her sister would die to even touch. From the waist up, it was skin-coloured and covered in red lacy flowers, from the waist down, fell folds of red silk that swished when she walked. Even the very crown on her head looked as rich as Joffrey's because it was on her head, Sansa would love her indeed.
"I'm not going to the wedding," she told Fianna stubbornly.
"Why? It's for Edmure, he'll consider it an insult if you don't attend."
"No he won't, he'll be jealous and wish he could skip it himself," Arya muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have a... feeling."
"A feeling?" Fianna looked to her with scrunched eyebrows.
"I have a bad feeling about this place, and the last time I had this feeling I watched my father get beheaded five minutes later," Fianna's heart clenched at her words, she felt the exact same.
