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FREYA slept for a long while. She woke up in the carriage, her head throbbing from sitting on the wood. She pushed the mountain of covers off, her eyes squinting from the light. Their horse was stopped, and when she looked to the right, she saw the Hound and Arya Stark sitting by a small fire.
She carefully jumped down from the carriage, her bones continuously aching. Freya didn't know if it was from her uncomfortable sleeping arrangement or the memory of what happened last night. She wanted to believe that it had all been a dream, but that would be denying her reality. Robb was dead. Catelyn was dead. Everyone was dead.
She had been so fucking lucky to find Arya at the time she did, or else she would've been raped and killed. But, if she were being honest, Freya didn't exactly mind the inevitability of her own demise at the moment. She almost wished for it, because what else was she living for now?
Freya walked over to the duo, trying to stretch out her arms. Sandor looked up at her, grumbling, "Gods, I thought you'd never get up."
She tried rubbing the dirt from her forehead, but to no avail. She sniffled loudly. "Where are we?"
"The Riverlands," Sandor answered gruffly.
Arya played with her fingers before staring up at Freya. "What ... what did you see last night?"
"Everything you saw," Freya answered bluntly. She hesitated then. "I ... I don't know. It can be hard to pay attention to things when everyone is trying to kill you."
"You got out of there, didn't you?" Sandor seethed.
Freya sent him a glare.
"Why did it start?" Arya blabbered on, almost in anxious stammers. "Were you married to my brother?"
Freya sat down in the mud beside them. She didn't care too much about the quality of her dress anymore. "It all started when my father refused to send Robb ships to sail to King's Landing," she explained. "In the process, he practically took my brother away and I haven't seen him since he went to visit the Iron Islands. Roose Bolton suggested that Robb and I marry out of spite towards my father, even though Robb was already betrothed. Now I know it was the Boltons betraying us all along. The rest is simply Robb and I acting as immature rulers." Freya looked at her hands. "I was thrust into the life of being a 'Queen' so quickly that I didn't understand it. I wasn't meant to give orders to people or to rule. I wish I never let those greedy lords pressure me, or else we wouldn't be here."
Sandor's eyes only flickered over to her. Arya's vision went narrow. "So the deaths of my brother and mother ... are your fault?"
Freya viewed up. Her eyes went wide.
Arya stood, stomping her feet in the ground. "If you hadn't married Robb, he would still be alive!" She cracked her knuckles, causing Freya to stand. "Gods, I hate all you Greyjoys! You take and take until there's nothing left!"
