CHAPTER 2 | A TWAT WITH A TWAT

UPON arriving at Winterfell, the company spotted a dead direwolf mother, surrounded by five, very-alive pups. They were small and each had an arrangement of different colors. Little Bran was the most excited, and begged his father to keep them. Jon had suggested to Ned that there were five pups, one for each of the Stark children. Theon had almost tried to kill them, but was stopped by Freya, and Ned Stark slowly agreed to taking the pups in.

When they had returned, Freya had watched Lord Stark meander towards the godswood of Winterfell to clean his sword. Freya yearned to visit it, but thought she was not worthy to be in such a vicinity. Minutes later, she watched Lady Stark venture towards the godswood as well, clutching a letter tightly. Whatever was the matter, she was sure to hear of it soon.

In fact, she did. Just a day later, Freya walked into the great hall of Winterfell with her handmaiden to break their fast. It was early in the morning, so she did not expect anyone to be near, but when they arrived, dozens of workers hurried around. They hung up more lanterns, carried fresh meat and vegetables, and cleaned the walls. Freya looked around with worried eyes, spotting Catelyn and Maester Luwin ordering their help around.

"We need plenty of candles for Lord Tyrion's chamber." Catelyn explained to the maester. "I'm told he reads all night."

Maester Luwin grasped a large list of duties for them to finish before that afternoon. "I'm told he drinks all night."

"How much could he possibly drink? A man of his ... stature."

Lord Tyrion, Freya wrinkled her nose in confusion at the name. Tyrion of House Lannister was part of queen's regent. Was he venturing here? Why would House Lannister be coming to Winterfell?

"We've brought up eight barrels of ale from the cellar." Maester Luwin answered. "Perhaps we'll find out."

Freya approached Catelyn, with her handmaiden trailing behind her. "Lady Catelyn," she greeted with a smile. "Me and my handmaiden, Selene, were just coming down for breakfast." Freya looked about the great hall. "But it looks like you're busy preparing ... something."

"Oh, dear Freya, I thought your brother would have told you." Catelyn laid a hand on her shoulder sullenly. Freya furrowed her brow. "The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, has died of a fever. Our king, Robert Baratheon, now rides for Winterfell to offer this title to Eddard. They arrive sometime later today."

Freya took a step back. No, she thought. Freya refused to look at that disgusting, old, fat man that she had to call her king. He was no king. He was a murderer. He murdered her own brothers and forced both Theon and her to remain as wards at Winterfell. Though Freya did not exactly mind this life she now had, she would never forgive Robert Baratheon for killing Rodrik and Maron. She would never forget.

Selene took this news as a sign and hurriedly rushed her lady back to their chambers. "Why does this visit matter so much to you?" Freya said bitterly to her handmaiden. "I'd rather not see Robert Baratheon alive and well." A smirk made its way on her face. "What if I silently poison him while he sleeps? No one will know."

Selene shook her head, already sorting through the knots that had formed in Freya's hair. "You will do no such thing, m'lady." Her comb roughly tore through Freya's blonde locks. "You will be presentable towards the king's court. You finally have more men to look at besides those idiotic Stark boys. All we need to do is make you look more beautiful than you are already and teach you how to talk to an honorable man."

"I know how to talk to everyone," Freya muttered and turned to look at Selene. "Also, why? Who do you actually have in mind that will overlook my former bastard status? Most of those traveling in the king's court are either incredibly young or will treat me terribly." Freya sighed and spun back around on her stool for Selene to finish her braiding. "Please, Selene, just one more year and I'll take marriage seriously. I don't not feel like an adult just yet."

Selene hummed to herself. "I was thinking of you courting Jaime Lannister at the banquet."

Freya began laughing uncontrollably. "You have to be joking!" She slapped her knee, unable to control her jest. "Have you not heard the rumors? That man must have his pecker so far up his sister's –"

"Lady Freya!" Selene yanked at her hair, causing Freya to silence herself. "Do not speak that way."

Freya rolled her eyes. "You're not my mother."

•••

The sound of horses grew louder in the distance, and within seconds, the carriages began to pull up. Soldiers waved Lannister and Baratheon flags as they rode, with Joffrey and his knight, the Hound, following after. A large carriage with intricate details of red and gold was rolled into the common ground of Winterfell, greeting the Starks who waited in a line. Ned, Catelyn, Sansa, Robb, Rickon, and Bran waited in front, while Theon and Jon were put in the back with Freya shoved between them. If only she could see over Robb's large head.

Catelyn looked around for her other daughter. "Where's Arya? Sansa, where's your sister?" Sansa only shrugged.

More riders came through the gates with their banners, and Freya immediately felt the frigid cold and wind in her bones as they passed. A man wearing glittering golden armor rode in on a white stallion. Arya ended up pushing Freya and Jon from her path and scooted by her parents wearing a helm. "Hey, hey, hey, hey! What are you doing with that on?" Ned asked his daughter before removing the helm.

The Lannister and Baratheon forces stopped in front of the greeting line, and Prince Joffrey followed, flipping his expensive, velvet cape to the side. Sansa smiled at Joffrery as Robb gave him a glare. Freya knew the prince got his looks from his mother, but he really didn't look anything like Robert. Good riddance, she thought.

The Hound pulled off his helm, of which was in the shape of a mut, revealing his course hair and scarred face. Freya spied on her tip toes. Almost half of the right side of his face was burned off, and Freya wondered exactly how he survived his torture.

"Do you know why his face looks like that, sister?" Theon whispered, earning a confused look from Freya. "They say his own brother shoved his face in a hot brazier as a child. Burned half of his face."

Freya grinned. "I don't know if I'd believe that."

"For once, your brother does not lie," Jon muttered from her left.

Finally, King Robert rode in on his horse, his weight making it hard for the steed to stop. Freya narrowed her eyes at the fat lard. Murderer.

Ned led the whole greeting line in a kneel. Freya hesitated, but slowly went to kneel down in the dirt. She did not want to kneel; why did King Robert deserve that? The Greyjoy lifted her head a little, watching Robert's sweaty and red-faced body heave himself off his horse. The man even needed a stool to get down. He got uglier each passing day.

Robert trudged forward towards Ned, gesturing with his hand for him to stand. Reluctantly, everyone stood up. Freya's eyes connected with Robert's for a split second, and then he looked at his friend. "Your Grace," Ned greeted with a nod of his head.

The king paused before muttering, "You got fat."

Soon enough, the two friends began to laugh with each other and they hugged tightly. Robert then extended his arms to Lady Stark, exclaiming, "Cat!" Catelyn only smiled nervously.

Robert ruffled the top of Rickon's head before turning back to Ned. "Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace." Ned grinned. "Winterfell is yours."

Freya watched Queen Cersei and her other children descend from the coach. She quirked a brow upward, whispering to Theon, "Have you ever thought about why Cersei's children don't look anything like Robert Baratheon?"

"I think we all know the answer to that," Theon replied with a smirk. She made a disgusted face.

Robert moved on to Ned's children. "Who have we here? You must be Robb," he said, shaking the boy's hand roughly.

"What a perfect couple," Freya mumbled to herself, "a twat with a twat." Jon chuckled, but they both earned a swift glare from Robb.

The king looked over at Sansa. "Aye, you're a pretty one." This caused Sansa to blush as he then glanced at Arya. "Your name is?"

"Arya," the girl answered.

Robert smiled towards Bran. "Oh, show us your muscles." He laughed heartily as Bran flex his small arm. "You'll be a soldier."

Out of the corner of her eye, Freya spied Jaime Lannister removing his helm. Sansa and Jeyne Poole gushed about him as he stood with his pretty hair. Truthfully, she didn't find him all that attractive. Freya bit the edge of her mouth, reminding herself of Selene's words. She loved her handmaiden, but she hated when her advice was right. She was an adult, but marriage seemed to be an idea that was out of the question for her, although it always ceased to rest on the edge of her mind. It was utterly annoying.

"Could you drool less?" Theon muttered to her.

Freya frowned at her brother. "Selene suggested I court Jaime Lannister tonight at the banquet. Horrid idea, I know –"

Theon chuckled lowly, "Like that would ever happen. I would like to see Jaime Lannister get over your manly stature. Plus, we all know he's fucking his sister."

"Want to place a wager on that, brother?" She narrowed her eyes.

The two siblings shook hands, sealing their agreement. This would be an interesting visit, but Freya was sure that the end of this gamble would be her losing coins.