The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

The Black Dinner

Her father had insisted they share a private meal that evening. Just family, he said.

Aileen had been rather wary at that. Ever since Lord Bolton and his army - now consisting of both the Stark and Bolton men - had arrived at Winterfell after clearing the Ironborn out of the North, everyone had always eaten in the Great Hall. It was the warmest room in the castle for one, the first to be fully restored, and the Starks had always taken their evening meals there with the entire household. 

She remembered how Lord Eddard had invited a different member of staff up to the high table each day, smiths, guardsmen, servants, to talk about their work, and their families. Grim-faced and stern though he might have been, Lord Stark was a good listener and asked thoughtful questions, showing his genuine interest in the conversation and taking advice on how he could improve things. That was why he was so respected by his household, and his bannermen. Yes he was a skilled battle commander, yes he was an effective lord, but he was also kind, just and respectful of them in turn.

It always felt wrong to see Roose Bolton sitting in his chair. In that sense it was rather a relief to eat in the lord's solar that evening rather than the hall. Now her father simply sat at the head of this smaller table, with Ramsay to his right and Theon Greyjoy to his left. Arya sat at the other end, her husband on one side, her mother to the other.

Neither Arya nor Edrick seemed pleased by their marriage. Of course, the cousins got along well, always having been similarly wild and disobedient, but certainly regarded each other more as siblings rather than husband and wife. That was fair enough, seeing as they were only children; Edrick fourteen, Arya eleven. Thankfully they were not expected to consummate the marriage yet, at least not for a couple of years.

Aileen's brother had been meant to marry Sansa. They had been waiting for Sansa to arrive from White Harbour for weeks. Lord Manderly claimed that the weather was too poor to send her up the White Knife, that they must wait until the blizzard passed over lest the party be lost in the snow. Then came that fateful letter that had her father's eyes narrowing, the only sign of anger on his otherwise expressionless face.

My lord, I write with the deepest regret to say that Lady Sansa managed to escape the guards we left on her for her own safety. She disguised herself as a servant and went to the Snowy Sept, to say her holy vows and give up her family name. No matter how I tried to persuade the sept to give her up, that she is just a foolish child who doesn't know what she's done, they stubbornly insist that she is now Septa Sansa and will remain in the care of the Faith. I share your frustrations as I was hoping to request a betrothal between her sister Lady Arya and my eldest grandson, though undoubtedly the girl will be meant for your son Edrick now. My sincerest apologies, Lord Wyman Manderly.

Aileen had been at her father's side and snatched up the letter when he let it fall on the desk. No sooner had she finished reading was he ordering a feast to be prepared for the following evening, and Arya was being fitted for a new dress.

The godswood was shrouded in fog during the ceremony, the cold air causing thick mist to rise up from the hot springs and curl in tendrils around the trees. Arya wore a simple white dress with minimal grey embroidery given the limited time they had to make it; using her sister's planned dress was out of the question seeing as Sansa had always been a lot taller and more womanly. Her maiden's cloak was the one that Lord Eddard had draped around Lady Catelyn's shoulders all those years ago - the fire had somehow spared the chamber it was stored in - and was white with an intricate grey direwolf running across the back. 

The guests were simply whoever was in Winterfell at the time, which was no one very important seeing as all the lords were busy tending to their own lands, preparing for the winter that was fast approaching and, for those castles to the west, repairing any damage the Ironborn had done. Ren gave his cousin away, being her closest male relative still alive aside from her husband-to-be. Arya had a face like thunder throughout, and there were many mutters amongst those attending that there surely had never been a bride who glowered more on her wedding day.