someday, we'll laugh about this
SUMMARY: During which Arya discusses her marriage prospects with Theon. Also involves a heavy amount of sneaking around. Arya/Theon. AU where Ned never died and the Stark kids got a relatively normal childhood.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Basically, someone from Tumblr requested I do an Arya/Theon fic after I revealed my affinity for crack!shipping. Enjoy all the crackiness. Also, this is possibly the first non-Modern AU fic I've written for asoiaf, so I feel like it's really terribad. Excuse the terribad-ness.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own.
"And where are you going?"
Arya Stark froze, the tips of her feet teetering on the edge of the uneven stone steps. She turned around, only to see Theon Greyjoy emerge from an archway behind her. "I thought you were supposed to be sewing with Sansa."
"You thought wrong," she said huffily.
"Did you finish your sewing?" Theon said, his smile slightly mocking.
Arya drew herself up to her full height. "Perhaps," she said cryptically. "I find myself in need of a break."
"A break from sewing?"
"Yes," agreed Arya. She began walking away from Theon.
He chased her down the stairs, evening his long stride to match her harried steps. "Are you heading toward the stables, perhaps? Maybe you're going to do some riding?"
"I am doing no such thing," said Arya, her tone brisk.
"Would you like me to accompany you?"
"I don't need your help sneaking out!" She whirled on him, her eyes wide.
"So you are sneaking out," Theon said.
Arya's expression soured as she scowled heavily. "I can handle myself. I don't need your help."
"I wasn't offering you my help," Theon said. "I was offering you my company."
Arya regarded him with a critical eye. "Fine," she conceded. "But not a word to Sansa or mother otherwise the next thing I'll be sewing together are your lips."
"Of course not." Theon chuckled. "The last thing I want to do is arouse the wrath of the little Lady Stark."
Arya ignored him and trudged on. She kept light on her feet, trying not to draw attention to the sound of shoes slapping against stone.
"So, tell me," Theon said, "are your parents truly trying to find you a betrothed?"
"I wouldn't know," said Arya. "Nobody ever tells me anything until it's too late. Even if they are, I won't get to choose."
"And if you did?"
"If I did what?"
"Choose," said Theon, one brow quirked. "Who would you choose?"
"I don't know anyone who I like enough to want to marry," Arya answered. She ducked behind a doorway, scanning the hall in front of her.
"What about one of the Tyrell boys? They're rather handsome and I hear Sansa is deeply fond of the eldest."
"That's because she's betrothed to him, stupid." Arya walked quickly as she paid careful attention to her surroundings. She was trying her best to ignore Theon. Suddenly, she wished she had never agreed to let him come along.
"What about the youngest?"
"He wouldn't want me. He only likes pretty things."
"I think you're pretty enough."
"Then, it's too bad you're not Loras Tyrell."
Theon clapped a friendly hand on her back. "What about a Martell? I hear that in Dorne, they let the women do whatever they please. The youngest, Trystane, is close in age to you. You would make a fine match."
"I suppose a Martell wouldn't be so bad," murmured Arya thoughtfully. "Not that I am entertaining the thought of marriage."
"Of course you aren't," said Theon smoothly. "While we're on the topic of not entertaining the thought of real marriage, what do you think of Jojen Reed?"
"Not much, I must admit." Arya said. "Though his sister is great fun."
They were nearing the stables, the smell of horse and feces growing stronger with every step. Arya thanked the Old Gods that nobody seemed to be around who'd warn her sister or her mother of her sneaking away.
"I suppose this is where we will be parting ways?" Theon asked.
"I suppose," said Arya. For the first time, she wished the stables were farther away.
As she was walking away, Theon called out to her. "And what about a Greyjoy?"
"What of it?" Arya was glad Theon couldn't see her face. "I'm not sure I understand the benefits of a Greyjoy husband."
"Shall I explain them to you in greater detail?"
"Then maybe you should join me," Arya said, hardly believing her own ears.
"A wonderful idea," said Theon. "However, I don't quite enjoy mucking up horse dung."
"That's fine." Arya waved that idea away. "We won't be cleaning up after the horses, anyways. We'll be riding them."
Theon walked up to her, smiling. "I knew it. You're going riding again."
Arya bit down on her tongue, willing herself to remain silent. There was just something about this Greyjoy that made her want to tell him everything.
"I won't tell," he said. She could feel his breath on her face. "It'll be our little secret."
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