It has been a week since Arya's betrothal was announced, and only a day more since she and her father and good-sister has arrived in King's Landing, and this morning was the morning of Sansa's wedding. Arya sat on her sister's featherbed in the Red Keep and watched as Cat dismissed Sansa's handmaidens so she could do her daughter's hair. Only one handmaiden stayed as she did Sansa's makeup. Arya recognized her dark hair and foreign features as Shae, apparently Sansa's favorite handmaiden.

"I remember the day I birthed you," Cat said as her hands wove through her daughter's red hair, forming it up into a Southern style. "And now I am readying you to be married." Her mother looked as if she was on the verge of tears.

"Mother, you are too dramatic." Sansa smiled as she looked at her reflection in the looking glass. "I will visit you and father in Winterfell. And you are always welcome in Storm's End."

But not me, Arya added silently. Although the remote bitterness has faded away from Sansa, they still rarely spoke to each other since her betrothal. Sometimes, Sansa would even give her a small forgiving smile while they passed each other, but nothing else.

"I know that, but it is still a sad yet happy experience for a mother to dress her daughter for her wedding. I am sure you will share the experience in due time." Catelyn smiled at that idea and looked at Sansa with pride.

"What if I only have daughters?" Sansa frowned and looked like a wilting flower. "Everyone in Storm's End will hate me."

"No one will ever hate you, Sansa." Catelyn was quick to remind her daughter. Sansa didn't reply, but only sat in silence as Shae painted rouge on her cheeks and her mother braided the last of her hair.

Then, their father knocked on the door, and Shae got up and welcomed him in. Ned was holding the Stark cloak with a Direwolf on it. His expression matched that of his wife; happy, yet nostalgic.

"It's time, love," was all he said. Sansa took a deep breath and got up from her chair. Ned draped the cloak around her and tied it in place. Before they all left her chambers, her parents took a final look at her. Obviously, Sansa was beautiful. And she was always the beautiful Stark sister, while Arya was known as Arya Horseface. But Arya didn't mind. It was true, after all.

All of the Starks present for Sansa's wedding were dressed in their best apparel. Ned and Catelyn were both dressed in their house colors, with Ned in a grey tunic and Cat in a dark dress with white embroidery and detail. Arya was jammed into a Northern style gown with fringe at the neckline, despite the hellish weather the South granted them. Margaery was radiant in a Northern styled gown herself, flaunting her new house and her swelling stomach. Sansa however, was the most beautiful of them all. She was dressed in her new house's color, with a cheery Baratheon golden-yellow wedding gown. Her Tully red hair contrasted beautifully with her wedding dress, and her blue eyes shined with hope. Flowers were delicately stitched with white on her skirts. Sansa looked the happiest Arya has ever seen.

Of course, the wedding was beautiful. Even the precession itself was breathtaking, even for Arya's standards. The attendants of House Stark walked from the Red Keep to the Great Sept of Baelor with the High Septon of King's Landing and Septa Mordane. House Baratheon was already in the Great Sept of Baelor, waiting for the bride's family. Sansa held Margaery's hand for assurance, and they both waved at the crowds together as they weaved seamlessly through the townsfolk. The civilians of King's Landing adored Sansa and Margaery, despite their short visit. In the week before the wedding, they both visited Flea Bottom together and attended the orphanages and gave bread to the hungry. Arya was again hit with the sudden reminder that Sansa can never live the dream she has always dreamed. And so as long as it continues, Sansa will never truly forgive her sister.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The High Septon announced. Renly nodded and gracefully untied his own yellow and black cloak bearing the Baratheon Stag with a crown on its neck and wrapped it around his bride. To others Sansa would've looked like any other girl that was to marry a High Lord. Except she took a deep breath. Arya twitched when she saw her sister's subtle and unconscious reaction, and Arya was sure she was the only attendant who noticed, but she was worried and curious. Has Sansa discovered the truth of her husband? Arya wondered to herself.

The bells of the Great Sept of Baelor rang a cheerful tune to announce that the King's brother and his bride have exchanged their vows, and Lady Stark has been cloaked. So then, the attendants proceeded from the Great Sept and to the Red Keep for the feast. Arya rode in the carriage with her mother and father and Margaery, while Sansa was riding with her new husband and new good-family. Arya picked at the dirt under her nails awkwardly and fiddled with the fringe at her neck, vowing to chop it off as soon as she arrived at the Red Keep.

As usual with all the other feasts, Arya sat alone and isolated on her chair as she continuously stabbed the roasted duck on her plate. But something didn't quite feel right. The filthy King must be leering at me again, Arya guessed. But when she glanced to the side, out of the corner of her eye she saw the King groping some drunken lady that managed to find her way in the Royal Wedding Feast.

But this perplexed Arya even more. Completely disengaged with the demolished duck on her plate, she searched the room with her Stark grey eyes. Sansa was sitting at the Royal Table now, talking to the Queen and Princes Myrcella, like a true and proper lady would. But it was the man sitting next to the Princess. Gendry's blue eyes searched through Arya as hungrily as Arya wanted to escape the room. What an improper bastard. If he wanted to talk to me, he can just as well walk over here. He doesn't have to grope me with his sight like his father. Arya snorted and decided to have some fun at the feast. Might as well anyways, she was supposed to stay here all night.

Arya sneaked along the empty tables until she found an abandoned seat with a full goblet of Dornish wine. Some lord must've left it there in haste to dance. Without hesitation, Arya downed the entire goblet in one drink. Already feeling the buzz of the alcohol, she decided it was finally time to proceed. But before she got anywhere, she was stopped by a different man.

"My Lady?" He smiled to her, but looked awkward and embarrassed. His skin was tanned and had pale blonde hair and had blue eyes, not as magical as Gendry's, but they even appeared purple in certain lightings. "I am Edric Dayne the… the Lord of Starfall. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya."

What was Arya supposed to say next? He has already greeted himself, and he already knows her name so there's no point in introducing herself, and Arya sure as hell didn't remember any of her lessons. So she just went with it. "What brings you to King's Landing, my lord?" Arya decided to add the small 'my lord' at the end as a small touch.

"Why, to attend your sister's wedding of course." Edric smiled and walked to Arya's side and together they walked closer to where lords and ladies were dancing. "May I ask my lady for this dance?" He japed. Arya snorted. She liked the Lord of Starfall already. Edric placed his hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist lightly and almost touched her as if she was fire. As if he was scared of her. She knew he meant no offense, but rather he was too chivalrous. She didn't have to worry about tripping over her own feet because Edric was equally as awful. They talked a bit, and Arya laughed a bit, and then Edric laughed too.

When Arya looked up again to the bull-headed Prince, he so happened to glance at her from the corner of his eye. When he saw Edric and her arm-in-arm, he didn't just look away like a normal Prince would. No, he had the decency to snort then look away. Arya frowned and looked back at Edric.

"To be quite honest my lady, I came here for another reason as well."

"Call me Arya."

"Call me Ned."

"Then, Ned, what other reason did you have to visit the capital?"

Ned looked at his feet and then to Arya as if suddenly conscious he's been dancing with her. He then put back on the mask he was wearing earlier, the embarrassed and shy mask. "My family thought perhaps our houses could have an alliance… through marriage. But with the sudden announcement the King made, I do not think that would be possible."

"Oh," Arya looked to her feet as well, and stepped back a bit away from Ned. Of course, everything is about marriage.

Before Ned could reply, a shout resonated through the feasting hall.

"Time for the Bedding Ceremony," A lord announced. Other lords of the court cheered and snickered as they raised Sansa from her chair. She looked as if she was going to argue at first, and Arya felt a sudden ounce of pride for her sister, but then she just limped like a rag doll as lords she barely knew cheered as they tore her dress to pieces off her body.

Arya was disgusted.

Renly was faring no better as ladies giggled to themselves as they pulled off his tunic then carried him out of the feasting hall. But Renly was lucky. Margaery did most of the work, and tried her best to hide him from the guests, but a Bedding Ceremony was a Bedding Ceremony, and it was inevitable. Arya wasn't even sure when Renly and Margaery bonded.

Staggering back to the nearest table, Arya managed to find another half-filled goblet of Dornish wine and emptied it again in one full gulp. Ned walked away somewhere during the Bedding Ceremony. Probably to rip the dress off my sister, Arya thought. Arya found another goblet and downed it all. I hate weddings, Arya's mind babbled on as she downed each drink; I will need a lot more of this Dornish wine to get me through the rest of the night. Raising her head to the ceiling, she tried to count how many candles were on the dangling chandelier above them. She couldn't even count three before blinking and starting over…. which was a good sign in her mind.

But when she looked back to the feast and tried to walk, her footing betrayed her, and she was set to fall on the floor. A firm hand grabbed her arm with a soft yet forgiving grip, saving her just before she completely lost her balance. Looking up, all she could recognize were blue eyes.

"It's you." Arya grumbled.

"You've had too much to drink." His voice was steady and on the verge of sounding like he actually cared for her welfare. But she knew that wasn't true.

"Oh, have I now?" Arya giggled. "I've lost count."

"Come on now," Gendry tugged her arm again, but with less force. "I'll take you to your chambers before your parents notice your intoxication."

"Let them see me," Arya frowned, hardly thinking of the words escaping her mouth. "I'm a woman grown; I can make my own choices." Her eyes then cornered on a full goblet. "And my choice right now is that filled goblet of Dornish wine."

"No you don't," Before Arya could slip away he hauled her over his shoulder. Just like how Jon used to. Arya realized with a start, and almost thought she was sober, but blinked again and the drunken craze returned.

"Let me down!" Arya pounded on the Prince's back. "You wanted to take me away before my parents see me? Now they will see me all well since you're carrying me!"

"I lied." Gendry started going down the hall of the feast, leading her away from the rest of the drunken lords and ladies. "Your parents left during the Bedding Ceremony. I'm making sure you don't embarrass yourself in front of the rest of the attendants."

"You're doing a terrible job." Arya gave up on hitting his back now. Now, she was just so tired. She became limp on his back and just let him drag her away. They were already out of the feasting hall, and on their way to the stairwell leading to her chambers in the Red Keep.

After a terribly long silence, Gendry decided to speak to her. "Is the Lord of Starfall to your liking, My Lady?" His voice dripped with sarcasm and attitude Arya had too much of a headache to deal with.

"Seven Hells, Gendry." Arya groaned and rubbed the sides of her forehead as she saw her mother doing quite often.

"You can't help that I'm curious about who my to-be-Lady Wife is dancing with at wedding feasts." Gendry retorted.

"I'm a person, not a bloody goat," Arya raised her voice, although her words here slurred together. Gendry apologized for his words, and Arya rubbed her temples, her head throbbing from the aftereffects of the wine. She groaned, "you stupid bull-headed Prince."

Gendry didn't reply, but only laughed at Arya. His laughter only agitated her more, but he finally set her down on the floor. She wobbled, so he placed his arms on her shoulders to steady her.

"This is as far as I can take you." He said, his blue eyes bringing her back to reality.

"Why?"

"I cannot go in your chambers." Gendry replied quickly, and almost acted like Ned Dayne when certain things were implied. Arya snorted at Gendry's sudden chivalry, which never seemed to be present before.

"I promise you that if you walk me to my bed that my maidenhead will still be intact." Arya rolled her eyes. She expected the Prince to scold her for using such harsh language, like others always do, but he never did. Instead, he laughed.

"As My Lady commands," He snickered as he helped her through the doorway.

"DontcallmeMyLady." Arya couldn't even form an understandable sentence for any longer. His laughing continued. When he helped her onto her featherbed, he pulled up the sheets and tucked her in much like how her brothers and father used to back when she was a small girl.

"Good night, Arya." The Prince was at her bedside bidding her goodnight, but the Northern Princess was already far too deep in her slumber to notice. For a moment, he watched her lay so peacefully on the plush featherbed. She looked so at ease and calm, and her beauty was obviously evident with the moonlight beaming off her now prominent cheekbones and smoothed skin. She looked like a normal princess. Gendry snickered at that thought. He knew that Arya was anything but a normal princess. Gendry even knew deep in his heart that if Arya was conscious and knew that Gendry was staring at her in this way, she wouldn't hesitate to fulfill her empty threats of injuring him dearly.

But that's why he found her so interesting.