A girl, the age of six and ten, stared out the window of her spacious, quiet room. The moon hung high above her head as all the inhabitants of the kingdom began to emerge upon the palace. Something close to dread began to take hold within her. A whisper inside her head screamed for her to run, run and never return to the life she knew, but that was childish thoughts and a child she was not anymore. It was her name day, and the age of six and ten was an age where a girl became a woman. In Arya Stark's mind that was scary. It meant that her father would expect her to take her place amongst the other Starks and fulfill her duties as princess of Winterfell
One of those duties meant that she would marry someone of her father's choosing. Arya cringed, her chest tightening to the point of not being able to breathe. She had never really been smitten with boys, only thinking of the opposite sex when challenging them to some sort of competition. She left the boy chasing to her sister. Sansa usually never had to chase them. They fell at her feet willingly. It was not that Arya didn't find the boys of Winterfell interesting or attractive, but none of them felt right, felt her equal.
The thought of the opposite sex caused Arya to cringe again. She knew what was about to happen. She could feel it as plainly as the wind blowing through her window. A feast was about to start in her honor. Princess Arya turning the age of six and ten was something to celebrate for Winterfell. Even now, the seamstress was putting the finishing touching on the beautiful dress she was to wear. One that would stand out amongst the sea of people gathering for the feast. Arya would be made the center of attention, and at the right moment her father would announce her fate, sealing her and his kingdom to someone she had never met, some distant kingdom she had never been to.
Arya began to pace the room, her hands sliding into her hair and tugging just a little. Her future was a blur, as if she were trying to look upon it through a sea of smoke. Her carefree days of following her brother Jon around like a little puppy would come to an end. She would be shipped off to some stranger she knew nothing about, some man she would be forced to give her loyalty to without knowing the first thing about him. Would he be good to her? Would he be kind and gentle? Or was he thinking the same things she was, perhaps on this very night? Did he feel like his life was ending as well?
Arya walked swiftly towards the window, breathing in the light breeze floating through the night. It swept her hair back from her shoulders, cooling the tiny sweat bubbles underneath her nose. Her eyes were slammed shut, her breath coming out in small puffs. Any moment she knew she would faint from all of the whispers and images in her mind of what kind of life she would have from now on. She knew the rules, knew what was expected of her as a princess, knew her duties to her country and kingdom, but still she could not help the resentment creeping in. She could not help the resentment creeping in for her parents. There was even resentment for the people of her kingdom.
"Perhaps I am mistaken," she whispered to herself.
Her father had not given any indication that he was to wed her off to a stranger. He had told Sansa of her upcoming nuptials with the son of King Robert Baratheon of King's Landing well in advance of her name day a year ago. Though the marriage had not taken place, for whatever reason, Sansa still had known she would wed Joffrey. Was there still hope that Arya would not have to wed? Her father knew she was a free spirit, knew she was not made from the same mold as Sansa. To make her walk down the same path as her sister was like sentencing her soul to death. Would it make any difference if she wed? Winterfell was one of the strongest and safest kingdoms in Westeros, only standing in the shadows of the mighty King's Landing. But a marriage deal was done between those two kingdoms. They would be joined for all the ages, only increasing their strength.
"Winterfell is safe. It should not matter if I marry or not," Arya said, answering her mind's questions.
Sighing, she turned from the window and walked to her bed. Though she felt completely exhausted, she could not sleep, for any minute her mother would appear. A single tear slipped from her weak eyes, followed by another and then another. "I will not do it! I will not marry! It isn't fair!" she whispered to the darkened ceiling. 'Since when is life fair,' the voice in her head whispered back. Arya closed her eyes, knowing she had never heard anything so true as that one statement.
The next few moments swirled around Arya like a dream. She heard every noise, every cheerful laughter floating from outside her window, yet she detached herself from the warm feelings. She could hear the footsteps walking towards her room, knew what those footsteps meant. The feast was about to begin, and her mother and servants were coming to get her ready.
Slowly, Arya sat up, wiping the last remnants of her tears from her flushed cheeks. No sooner had she wiped the last tear away, the door to her room opened. Catelyn Stark walked inside her daughter's room, a beautiful dress already fitting perfectly upon her ageless body. Arya turned to her mother, seeing the beautiful smile upon the woman's face. She tried to return the smile, but her muscles would not cooperate. Instead, she frowned at her mother. The smile fell a few notches from Catelyn's face, her eyes showing understanding. Her mother knew what Arya was thinking, knew the dread within her as only a mother could know.
"It is time, my daughter," Catelyn said softly.
Arya turned away, looking back towards the open window. There was no escape, no getting away from whatever fate awaited her. Closing her eyes, taking one more deep breath, Arya stood from the bed and turned back to her mother. Catelyn commanded the servants to began a bath. They did so without a word. Arya watched them moving about the room, doing as they were told without question. She could not help but think herself in their position, having to do what they were told without their consent. For the first time in her life, she felt ashamed for not giving her two servants, two girls around her age, a second thought.
She stayed in the warm water until it turned cold. Even then, she was forced to get out by her mother. If it meant not having to hear the dreaded news she knew was coming, Arya would have stayed in that water the rest of the night. Instead, she was standing before a large mirror staring at a girl she did not recognize. The dress the seamstress had made for the feast was something of wonder. It was made of green silk, as green as the trees of the Godswood. The swirling patterns, running from the bodice to the very tips of the train, were made of gold thread. It lay off her shoulders a bit, showing more skin than she had ever shown before. The dress flowed down to the floor. With every move she made, it billowed out as light as a feather. The train behind her was just the right length, not too long as to where she would be tripped up. The dress accented her small, firm waist perfectly. They had placed her long hair atop her head, allowing small ringlets to form around her face. This was no child standing before her in the mirror, but a grown woman that was strange and foreign to her.
"Arya, love, it is time to go," her mother said softly.
She turned away from the mirror, meeting her mother's stare. Again, she saw sadness, understanding, shining in Catelyn's eyes. It took every ounce of strength to keep the tears at bay, for that one look told Arya all she needed to know. There was on doubt now that her father had done the unthinkable. Her father had used her as a pawn in the endless game of thrones. Another marriage to connect one kingdom to the other in hopes of continuous prosperity and strength. She felt like nothing more than a piece in a chess game and it was her father's turn to make his move. No matter how hard she tried, the anger began to boil within her.
The walk down to the Great Hall was the longest Arya had ever experienced. Music floated towards her, causing her heart to drop even further. Her steps faltered for a moment as she felt a light breeze touch her face. Turning slightly to her left, she saw darkness, a way out. 'Run,' the voice in her head pleaded. Before she realized it, she had come to a complete stop, not concerned with the fact that she was not alone. Catelyn had left her moments ago, leaving her with just the two servants. If she chose to run, they would not be able to stop her. She would be faster than them, and she knew the palace grounds better than anyone. Her heart began to pound loudly in her chest, her breath hitching. All she had to do was take a step towards the open air and she would be free. No marriage, no responsibilities. It was the only way, the only choice.
No sooner did Arya take a step towards the only escape she had, than suddenly that opening was taken away from her. It took her a few moments to realize that someone had stood in her path, stood in front of the open door to her freedom. Her eyes traveled up a strong body covered in the garbs of the royal army of Winterfell. The Stark crest stared back at her from the man's chest. She looked upon the proud direwolf as if she had never seen it before. Arya continued to move her eyes up until she found herself staring into the deepest blues she had ever seen. Besides the blue of his eyes, she was aware of the jet black hair that fell around his face. It was as black as the night behind him.
"Milady," he greeted with a bow.
His voice was deep, yet soft. It brought her out of her reverie in an instant. As soon as she was brought back to reality, to the cold, hard fact of what she was doing here, Arya became angry. Her one way out, her only hope, was taken from her by this man standing in her way. Her eyes grew dark as she continued to stare at him, at her blocked way out. The man seemed startled for a moment, no doubt confused by Arya's sudden turn of emotion.
"A-are you alright, Milady?" he asked in that same deep voice.
Without a word, Arya turned from the knight and walked away. The man would never know what he just took from her, never know that he had just taken her freedom away, for Arya knew she would not have another chance of escape. The moment her father uttered those words of doom, she would be held accountable. This man, this knight, just sealed her fate.
She left him behind her in shadow as she walked into the Great Hall. Instantly, she was overcome with laughter and music. The feast was well underway, but at the sight of their princess, the whole kingdom came to a stop. Every pair of eyes were upon her, some looking stunned at the woman standing before them. As one, the people of Winterfell began to bow to their princess. Arya had no choice but to force a smile upon her face. Her eyes darted towards the front of the Great Hall, seeing her entire family watching her closely. Her father, King Eddard Stark, raised his hand and motioned for her to come forward.
Without a sound, the people moved from her path. She walked passed their bowed heads, trying to force the smothered feeling away. Her eyes stayed on her father, a man she desperately loved with all of her heart. She did not want to think he would make her do something she had no desire to do, but as the seconds passed, she knew more and more of what was to come. Her beautiful mother stood beside her father, the look of sadness and understanding still in her eyes. Beside her, stood her brothers, Robb, Jon, Bran and Rickon. Beside them, stood Sansa looking as beautiful as ever. As soon as she was close enough, her father wrapped his arms around her, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
"You look absolutely beautiful, Arya," he whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the tears again. "Dance with me."
With a nod, he lead her towards the dance floor. The music began immediately. The tune was soft and melancholy, fitting her mood perfectly. Arya held her father tightly, sending silent pleas towards him as if he could hear her. After a moment, the dance floor began to fill with other dancers, yet Arya ignored them all. She was trapped in her own mind, in her own inaudible pleas. They danced together through three songs. No words were spoken between them. Perhaps her father was struggling with his decision to marry her off as well.
It wasn't until after supper was served and the many presents given that the horrible announcement was made. King Eddard had risen from his seat, looking upon Arya with feign happiness. Arya dug her fingernails into her chair, waiting to hear the news. As soon as the people saw their king standing, a hush went out through the room. He had their attention.
"Tonight, upon my daughter's name day, it is my honor to announce the joining of Winterfell with the kingdom of the Twins. King Walder Frey and I have negotiated a pact with our kingdoms. We will have free roam of the Riverlands, to come and go without payment. My daughter, Arya, is to marry his son, Elmar Frey, a month from today."
His voice was soft as he spoke, yet to Arya it was as if he were right at her ear, screaming in anger. She felt her world shift, felt the solid ground beneath her chair give way. Arya knew what was happening, knew it was the feeling of fainting and she forced her way through it. She would not give in to weakness, not in front of so many people. She grabbed onto her anger, onto her pain. The Freys? That is who her father had chosen for her? Walder Frey's son? How could her father do this to her? How could he have reached so low? She had heard stories of the Freys, of the Twins. It was not a nice place, though it was rich in land and money. Walder Frey was a hard ruler, and his son could not have fallen far from the tree. It was worse than a nightmare. It was a prison surrounded by water.
The people began to cheer the news, shouting their happiness and good wishes. Arya refused to look at them, looking past them at the door leading to the darkened night. The knight from earlier was standing at attention, staring directly at her. Her anger rose a notch as she thought about how he had stood in her path of escape. She stared daggers at him, wanting him to see the damage he had caused. If he noticed her angered eyes upon him, he gave no indication.
"Princess Arya will leave in two days on a journey to the Twins to meet her new husband-to-be and subjects."
Arya jerked her head towards her father, her eyes growing wide. He was not looking at her, and she could tell that it was on purpose. What had he just said? What had she heard? She would have to travel to the Twins to meet this stranger? It was as if her father had added salt to the wounds.
"May the old gods and the new protect our princess!" someone yelled from the crowd. Everyone began to cheer again, raising their glasses above their heads. Arya's family joined in, everyone but Arya herself. Her eyes were still glued to her father, screaming in her head for him to look at her. He never did. After what seemed like ages, she turned her eyes away, back towards the only exit in the room. The knight was gone, giving her vision full reign of the darkness outside. Her nightmare had just begun.
"May I be excused, father? I am quite tired and must get my sleep for the journey ahead," Arya asked sometime later.
Her father's hand came down softly on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. Arya felt him breathe deeply, the air fanning her cheeks. "Arya…I know what you are thinking, my child. It is for the good of the kingdom, you must understand that. We are born into a position where our duties must come first for the safety of the people we are given charge of. This will secure us for years to come, in a way that no other kingdom has ever known. I-I know this is not what you want, but I swear it is a good match."
"Goodnight, father," Arya replied, her voice dead.
She turned from her father, from her family, and proceeded to walk from the Great Hall. As she passed her subjects, they bowed to her again. She wanted to scream at them to rise to their feet. The moment she was out of sight, she ran. Where she was headed, Arya did not know, but the darkness of the night called to her. Grabbing the bottom of her beautiful dress, she ran as fast as she could. Her way was blinded by the tears stinging her eyes, yet she knew the land better than anyone. She would not stop, would not breath, until she was well away from the palace. Until she was well away from the duties that awaited her in two days, she would not stop to even think.
Through the Godswood, past the huge tree her father found solace under, she continued to run. Her legs became tired. Her dress and hair became tangled in tree limbs and roots, yet she continued to run. By the time she came to the large spring she could not venture over, she was bleeding from cuts to her face and panting loudly. Her tears mixed with the blood, running down her dirty cheeks. It was then that she allowed her self to fully scream. Anger and rage poured out of her mouth as the realization that her future was gone. Her life was not her own anymore, her dreams dead and gone. She was property to another, belonging to someone she did not know. Arya fell to her knees, feeling the weight of what that meant hitting her squarely in the face.
"Milady, are you alright?" said a concerned voice from earlier.
At once, Arya was on her feet again, turning to the man abruptly. She needed an outlet for her anger, her pain, and this man was the answer. Though she would regret it tomorrow, tonight she could not find it in her to care. After all, he was partly to blame for standing in her way earlier. He was to blame, for it was his safety and life that sealed her fate. He was her subject, which meant she would have to give up her happiness for his wellbeing.
"It isn't any of your concern!" she ground out. "Do me a favor and leave me be!"
"With all due respect, Milady, it is my concern and I cannot leave you be out here by yourself. I must ask you to allow me to accompany you back to the palace where you will be safe. There are beasts and evil things in the forest," he answered back quickly.
She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes at his chivalry when all she wanted to do was claw him. "I am no child and can take care of myself. I am not going back with you, sir! You will have to use force to get me to go back," she spat.
Even in the darkness, Arya saw his eyes darken. She could tell that he was not used to people disobeying him. As he took a step towards her, she took a step back. The concern was gone in his face, leaving what looked like anger.
"If I must use force I will, Milady. I do not exaggerate the dangers we are in being out here. I am sure after I explain what has happened to your father, he will pardon all wrongs I have done to get you safely back to the palace," the man whispered.
Arya felt a shiver run down her spine at the same time as her stomach did a few somersaults. When she tried to think of some smart retort, nothing would come to mind. That had never happened before. She had always been able to take care of herself with anyone, male or female, but this man standing before her had her at a lose for words. It was not so much as what he said but how he said it. There was an underlying danger in his voice, yet she could feel his protection as well. He meant what he said. If he had to, he would force her back to the palace. She would not allow herself to be humiliated in that way. At least that is what she told herself as she began walking back to the palace.
The walk in the dark seemed to last for forever. She could hear the man walking beside her, hear his head turning as he looked for danger in every direction. Arya kept her eyes forward, her chin slightly in the air to prove to this man he had not won the upper hand.
"I apologize for making you angry, Milady. I have walked these woods on patrol and have seen horrible things. I would not have spoken so bluntly if I was not concerned for your safety."
"You should have let the horrible things get me," she mumbled softly.
They were back under the safe shadow of the palace when the man stopped so abruptly that Arya could not help but follow. For a few moments, she did not dare look at his eyes, for she could feel them upon her. Though she was talking low and to herself, he had heard what she had said. Shame filled her, for she had showed weakness.
"Goodnight, sir. Thank you for your assistance," she said, turning and walking inside before he had a chance to respond.
Arya ran down the quiet hallway towards her room. As soon as she was inside, she leaned against her door, slamming her eyes shut. Outside her still open window, she could hear the music and laughter continue. Her mind kept going back to the man. She had never really gotten a good look at him, only his blue eyes and jet black hair. Sliding to the floor, the only thought she could think was how glad she was that she would not have to face him again, not after what he heard her say. In a month, he would just be a distant memory along with everything else.
I know the story just started but reviews are welcomed. Just like Not Today, this will be a whirlwind of emotions, but the ride is going to be fun! I will get chapter two out as soon as I can!
