She smiles as he places a cloak of yellow and black around her, and a crown of gold and onyx to match. She may never be a lady but she is a queen.
Fingers brush her cheek lightly, '' something wrong my lady?'' Arya knows this is meant as a jest but she can still see the worry in his eyes. Worried she won't be happy, that they won't be happy, that they won't make it through the winter.
She kisses him lightly on the lips and whispers, '' don't call me that.'