Alright, so here's the third part. Ella and Jon finally get to have some alone time, though not much. I promise things will start picking up in the next chapter.
fire1: I'll be telling the story, at least for a bit in the beginning from a couple different points of view. I always find it's more interesting to have more than one point of view in relation to the story. And to answer your question, they're going to live in Winterfell at least for a while. I can't give too much away though, it might spoil things.
Serenity10116: Thank you! Glad you're still enjoying it.
Blizzarddragon777: I'm keeping that ambiguous for a reason! Everyone will find out why Robert chose Jon soon. But for now I can't divulge too much!
Ella has always found comfort with food. When she was young, she'd sneak into the kitchens of the Red Keep and steal scraps while the cooks weren't looking. If her father had been particularly rude or angry with her for her existence, she'd sneak into the stores and hide in a corner with a loaf of bread or some dried meat or fruit and eat until the pain and sadness faded. She had been rather fat as a baby, and even as a child she had been round-faced and chubby. But when she failed to lose that chubbiness as she grew into a young woman her mother would cut her back on her meals. "A princess does not eat like a starving man," her mother had said. But no matter how hard her mother tried to cut her back, she never slimmed down. So her mother had gone to desperate measures, letting her train with her Uncle Jaime. He was hard on her, especially at first, training her for hours early in the morning.
Eventually Ella slimmed down, working for hours every day with her Uncle Jaime learning to fight combated her comfort eating habits. She still has curves, child-birthing hips her Septa had told her and plentiful breasts her mother was intent on her showing. "If you have it, show it." Again her mother's wisdom.
Ella hardly realizes she's comfort eating again at the feast, nearly clearing a plate before her mother pinches her leg under the table. A princess does not eat like a starving man. She's not just a princess, either. She's sitting before those who will be her people in two week's time. She has to make a good impression. Her father on the other hand, is not too worried about impressions. He's drunk now, drunk enough to be in the room's middle, making himself comfortable with a serving girl.
Ella lets her eyes drop to the table below the high table again. Jon had been sitting there with the rest of the Stark children, but he had disappeared at some point when Ella had been distracted either by the food or her drunk father. It's getting stuffy inside the hall, Ella's dress tight from sitting for so long.
"Where are you going?" Her mother asks as she stands.
"I need a breath of fresh air."
"Don't stay out too long." Her mother's words are kindly spoken, but she sees the warning in her eyes.
Lady Stark smiles at her as she passes, leaving the hall by a side door. The air outside is chilly compared to the air in the hall, Ella's breath steaming out in front of her. She finds herself in the courtyard, empty aside from the many guards in place. She steps away from the hall, breathing in the clean air. Even in the castle the air smells cleaner than the Red Keep. There's a bite to it too, not the suffocating kind from the heat, but the icy bite of the cold. She finds it's a sweet relief to the warmth from the hall packed with bodies.
She pulls the pins out of her hair, letting it fall down her back. She runs her fingers through the dark waves, letting them relax from being pulled up so tightly. Her attention is drawn away from her hair by the sound of someone hitting a practice dummy with a sword. She knows the sound, having done the same many times before. She picks up her skirts, making her way to the training grounds out of curiosity. It had seemed like all of Winterfell was inside the Great Hall, but perhaps she had found the only other person who had ducked out of the feast.
Jon is still in his dress clothes, hacking away at a practice dummy with a sword. Ella approaches slowly, watching him. His moves aren't calculated, hacking more out of frustration than actual practice. She stops a few feet from him, keeping back far enough to be out of reach of a wild swing of his sword.
"Enjoying yourself?"
He spins around, steadying himself on the dummy from the speed of his turn. "Princess. I didn't know you were there."
She smiles softly. "I heard you practicing. Not enjoying the feast, Lord Jon?"
"Please, just call me Jon. And I could only take so much of Lady Stark's disproving stares, princess."
She steps closer to him. "If I am to call you Jon, then I must insist you call me Ella."
He smiles a little at her. "You're not at the feast either, Ella."
She feels a shiver run down her spine when he says her name. She finds it much more pleasant to hear him say her name than to hear him call her princess. "My father is drunk and groping one of your servant girls in the middle of the hall. Plus, it was getting warm in the hall."
Jon glances up at her. "I thought you would like the heat, being from the South."
"I like warmth. But heat gets stifling quickly. One can only stand so much heat before it gets tiring." Ella lets her gaze drop to the dirt below her feet. "So. We are to be married soon."
She sees Jon nodding in her peripheral vision. "I never thought I would be the one marrying before Robb."
"Much less to a princess, right?" She looks up at him again.
He nods. "Yes. I don't know why the king would choose me over Robb."
Ella shakes her head. "I do not know why either. Our conversation was cut off before I could ask that question." Ella frowns, remembering that night over a month ago and how it had ended.
They fall into silence for a few moments, broken by the sound of hoofbeats coming near. Ella doesn't miss the way Jon steps in front of her protectively, the sword gripped in his hand. She watches him, knowing no one who would pose a threat would get inside the castle with her father's guard stationed at the entrances and outside the walls. But she's touched by the motion, a warmth spreading through her chest.
They both watch as the rider appears, coming to a stop in front of the stables. Jon relaxes, stepping closer to the rider as he recognizes who it is. "Uncle Benjen." Jon approaches the rider as he gets off his horse, and they greet each other with a hug. Ella steps forward, Jon turning to her. "This is Princess Ellyana Baratheon, my betrothed."
She offers her hand, Jon's uncle Benjen bowing and kissing her knuckles, but not before giving Jon a look. "Princess. It is an honor."
"The honor is mine, Ser." She says with a smile.
"No Ser, my lady. Just Benjen." He smiles. It's a kind smile that the other Stark men seem to share.
"What are you doing here?" Jon asks his uncle.
"I rode all day. Didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters." He turns to Ella. "No offense of course, my lady."
Ella grins, laughing. "None taken. I've heard we can be hard to handle."
"Why are you both not at the feast?"
"Getting some fresh air." Jon answers. Benjen looks between them for a moment before something draws his gaze behind Ella.
"Ellyana." Ella sighs when she hears her Uncle Jaime's voice.
"She sent you, didn't she?" She says without turning around.
"She's worried about you. She gave me very explicit instructions to bring you back."
Ella smiles softly at the Starks in front of her. "It was nice meeting you, Benjen." She turns to Jon. "I will see you later, Jon."
She turns then, picking up her skirts as she walks back to her Uncle. He stares at them for a moment before turning, following his niece back to the Hall. "How upset is she?" Ella asks her Uncle.
"She's not happy." Jaime says, strolling along. "But I think if you tell her you were with your betrothed she may be less upset."
Ella scoffs. "She hates the idea of me marrying him."
"And what do you think?"
Ella stops walking. It's the first time someone has asked her what she thinks about the marriage. Everyone had just expected her to go along with it like a perfect, obedient princess she's supposed to be. "I hated the idea at first."
"Yes, I heard about that." Jaime says. He had been standing outside when his niece had voiced her opinion about the marriage.
"I'm still not comfortable with it. But Jon is kind. Mother says it's stupid to think that, but I can see it in his eyes. He's had all this thrown on him in a single day while I've had a month to think about this, but he doesn't look at me like how Father looks at mother. He could hate me for ruining his life. For being forced into something he's had no say in. We don't even know each other, we've spoken for no more than ten minutes together and still...he doesn't look at me with any hate in his eyes. Mother says I'm childish to think men can be honorable and caring."
Jaime cups her chin, lifting her face. "You are not your mother. Your mother is ruled by a sense of duty. Years of putting up with your father has hardened her. You, little doe, have heart. Your mother is strong, but you have your own strengths different from hers." He releases her, offering his arm. "Come. If I delay you any further, your mother may come and find us herself."
"Gods help us if that happens." Ella says, letting her uncle escort her back into the Hall.
Ella wakes early the next morning despite the late night she had. The light coming in her window is grey, reminding her of where she is. Despite this she pulls on a pair of leggings and a tunic, slipping on her riding boots and her sword. She slips out the door, heading back to the training grounds to get in some practice. Her mother would be livid if she gained any weight before her wedding.
Jaime is already there when she arrives. He smiles at her, already warming up. "I didn't think you'd show up."
"What makes today any different from any other day?" She asks, stretching her arms.
"Well, you haven't practiced in a month, and we both had late nights last night."
"Worried you'll be a little slow?" She smirks at him, holding her sword as they begin to circle each other.
"Only worried for your sake." He smirks, lunging forward but his strike is blocked by Ella.
She takes a defensive stance, blocking his blows as he deals them. He holds back, never having used his full strength with her. His sister would have his head if he hurt her or gave her a bruise where it would be seen. They spar back and forth for a while, both attempting to deliver blows to the other. A crowd forms, the Stark boys coming out to train as part of their daily routine, spotting the two already sparring.
Ella's arms are already burning from the month off of training during their travelling, but she presses forward, using her size against Jaime's to slip in, hitting his sword close to the hilt. She uses his weight against him, using his swing to her advantage, bending his hand back forcing him to drop his sword. It lands in the dirt a few feet away, her own sword stopping inches from his face. The crowd erupts in applause, Ella curtseying to them before sheathing her sword.
Lord Stark approaches her, and she wipes the sweat from her face. "I had no idea you know how to fight, princess."
She smiles at him. "My Uncle Jaime started teaching me a few years back. My mother thought it would be good for me."
"She's a good student. Better than most of the boys I've trained." Jaime says, smiling affectionately at his niece.
A guard approaches them through the dispersing crowd of guards. "Excuse me, Lord Stark, Ser Jaime. The Queen has requested Princess Ellyana's presence at once."
Ella sighs. "Excuse me, Lord Stark."
Eddard watches Ella walk away with the guard, Jaime smirking after her. "Your boy is in for a wild ride with that one. She may look a delicate flower on the outside, but she'll beat you black and blue with the dull edge of a blade if you let her."
Ned glances at Jaime. "That's not a bad thing. It takes that kind of strength to survive in the North."
"It must irk you to know your bastard will marry a princess before your oldest son ever gets the chance."
Ned glares at the Lannister before him. "It is what the King wants. So I will see it done." He turns, walking away from the Kingslayer.
"Ever the loyal follower, Stark." Jaime calls after him, smirking at his retreating back.
Ella spends the day with her mother and Lady Stark preparing for the wedding. There's much to do, much to plan for. In truth, Ella is rather bored of planning, often finding her gaze wandering to the window. She would have much rather been outside, exploring her new home, even talking with Jon to get to know him. Even after their talk the night before they still don't know hardly anything about each other. Ella would have preferred to have time to get to know him before the wedding, but she must make due with the little time she has.
She slips away after their midday meal, wandering the castle to get to know her new home. She finds herself missing the red stone of King's Landing, the flowers, the stone walkways. She's given up trying to keep her dress clean, something her mother will be upset about but it can't be helped.
"I saw you fight the Kingslayer." Ella turns when she hears a voice.
"You're Arya. Lord Stark's youngest daughter."
She nods. "And you're the princess."
Ella likes the girl's bold spirit already. "Ella. That's what everyone calls me."
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"My Uncle Jaime started teaching me when I was around your age."
"I've always wanted to learn to fight. It's not proper for ladies to learn to fight though. At least that's what my mother told me."
"It may not be proper, but if ladies were proper all the time they'd be boring." Arya smiles at her. "I'm sure if you asked your father he would say yes."
She nods, looking down for a moment. "You're marrying Jon, aren't you?" Ella nods. "Yes. It's what my father wants, and so it will happen."
"Did you ever think to say no to him?"
Ella laughs. "The last time I said no to my father's commands he turned so red he looked as if he might explode."
Both girls laugh, but Ella finds herself with a bittersweet taste on her tongue. If Lord Stark agrees to become Hand of the King, Arya would ride South with him. She would have preferred to have the younger Stark stay in Winterfell. Perhaps she would have felt more comfortable.