The Birds First Song
"Do you think Joffrey will like me?" Sansa questions as her mother twists her auburn hair into a Northern styled hair-knot.
It has been roughly an hour since Ned announced King Roberts proposal of marriage between the crown prince and Sansa. Upon hearing the news Sansa was delighted and begged her mother to allow her to change her clothes and hair for the feast tonight. Since Lady Catelyn and I began assisting the little lady she has not stopped talking and asking about the prince.
"What if he thinks I'm ugly?" the girl asks nervously.
I sit on the bed in front of her at take her hands in mine. "Then he is blind," I smile brightly.
"And the stupidest prince that ever lived," her mother adds.
The worry slowly melts from the girl as she brings her hand mirror up to her face. Her fingers twirl around a loose strand of hair that hangs over her shoulder. A tiny smile pecks t her lips as she says, "He's so handsome." I bite my lip upon seeing Catelyn roll her eyes at her daughters words, a chortle barely salvaged from escaping into the air.
"When will we be married?" Sansa asks, "Soon? Or do we have to wait?"
"Hush now," Lady Stark decrees and Sansa's shoulders slump in her chair.
"Sansa," I say, "Lord Stark hasn't even agreed to the match yet. It isn't appropriate to keep outwardly declaring your affections until the decision is made."
"Why would he say no?" the girl protests. "He'd be the second most powerful man in the Kingdoms."
"He'd have to leave home… He'd have to leave me…" Lady Stark's voice trails off uncomfortably and I am grateful that her daughter is too distracted to notice the weakness in her mother's eyes. Seeing Lady Catelyn so distraught feels like a sharp blow is being made to my stomach.
It was very clear what her view was on the situation. She did not want anyone to leave. Not Sansa, and certainly not her husband. When Ned announced Roberts proposal to the family – both the wedding and the position of Hand to the King – I saw Catelyn peer at Jon: the evidence of Ned's last journey down to Kings Landing. Something that even after all these years she hasn't been able to even look upon without feeling disgusted. Her biggest fear is that Ned shall return again from Kings Landing with another bastard in his arms.
When I can see My Lady's eyes drifting off into the distance in somewhat of a daze, I take the initiative to distract Sansa before noticing her mothers strange behavior. "Besides my lovely lady," as say as I tuck a stand of hair behind her ear. "I would miss you should you go to the capital."
"But you would come with us!" Sansa cries.
"No," I laugh, "I would not do well in the capital."
"You say that only because you refuse to put on the proper attire of your station."
"My station is that of a Ward to your family," I reply. "I am eternally grateful for the kindness your father has bestowed upon me, however I have no station. Which means," I smirk wickedly and rise up to my feet grasping hold of my skirts and pulling them above my knees. "I have the pleaser of not having to wear these wretched skirts all the time as you two so insist that I do."
"Eliza!" Catelyn cries out, her mouth agape. I flick my heals about in a tiny jig before thrusting my skirts back down to the floor. Sansa burst out into a fit of giggles and I see a small smile emerge on Catelyns face. I feel a sense of victory at the turn in mood the room has made.
"I can't wait to go to the capital," Sansa declares and the mood shifts back to what it was. Catelyn's face drops again and I see her wince.
"Are you so insistent upon leaving home?" she enquires of her daughter. "You'd have to leave home."
"You left your home to come here," Sansa retorts causing Catelyn's hands to still in her daughters hair.
"And I'd be queen someday," Sansa adds with a hint of mirth in her eyes. Catelyn meets my gaze, both of our brows lifted in a 'of course that's what the young girl focuses on' look.
"Please make father say yes!" Sansa cries spinning round in her seat so that she's facing her mother.
"Sansa," her mother protest but is cut off by Sansas insistent cries of 'please! please! please!'
"It's the only thing I've ever wanted," the girl implores. Lady Stark only looks down on her daughter and for the first time I see a shift in her domineer. How could hearing your child, who never once – as far as I can recall – asked for anything, plead so much and not have it affect your decision? My Lady looks to me for support and not ten seconds later do I hear the sound of a tune come flittering up through the open window.
"Come Sansa," I say taking her slim wrist in my hand and pulling her to her feet. "The feast has begun." She tugs at her hair and straightens her dress making every strand, every ribbon is in place. "You look stunning," I say brightly forcing her arms down to her sides. She looks on me with a nervous smile and chips at one of her nails. I place my hand under her chin, forcing her to raise her head. "Be who you are Sansa, and if he can't see how beautiful and bright you are then he does not deserve you." The girls teeth appear in a wide toothed smile and a bit of color goes into her cheeks.
I hold my arm out to her and she wraps hers around my elbow.
We make our way down into the great hall, Catelyn close behind us. The closer we get the louder the music and sounds of merry-making become. When we come to the entryway the room is packed with people drinking, eating, dancing, and enjoying the slender of each other's company. My eyes shift around the room in search of Robb and Jon who would most likely be seated near the head table on the other side of the hall.
"Eliza," Sansa whispers in my ear taking my attention away from my search. I look down at her and her cheeks are a ruby red, her hand around my arm tightens and her eyes are staring off into the hall. I search through the crowd in the direction she is staring not surprised to find Joffrey in her line of sight. The blonde boy is leering in our direction. Although his lips display a smile, the look in his eyes makes my stomach turn. Something seems wrong about him, I just can't understand what it is yet.
"Go on girls," Catelyn says placing her hands on the smalls of our backs, pushing us deeper into the room. She moves past us and takes her place at the head table beside the queen. It's only then that I realize she is the only one that was seated at the head table. Where are Ned and the King?
I peer through the crowd once more but do not find Lord Stark, however my eyes catch the glint of gold reflecting off of a crown. King Robert is seated near the center of the room with a mug of ale in one hand and a kitchen wench in the other. Strangely, I'm not surprised.
Sansa and I make our way through the crowd towards the first row of tables where her ladies maids are seated awaiting their lady. As we make our way through I feel an arm wrap around my waist and tug me away from my companion. Instinctively, my hand reaches down towards my boot but is quickly caught in a vise-like grip.
"Now is that any way to treat me?" Robbs voice is cheery and a tinge of wine is mixed in his breath.
"By all the Gods!" I cry spinning round and yanking my wrist from his grasp. His arm drops from my waist and he laughs merrily.
"My Lady," he bows low to me and I purse my lips at the word. "Would you do me the honor of a dance?" he asks rising back up.
I am about to refuse him when Sansa intervenes. "You know she'll never say yes so just grab hold of her and drag her out there," the girl says this as she pushes me into Robbs chest. I find myself dumbfounded at both the situation and Sansa's uncommon statement.
"Quite right," Robb says with a wink to his little sister before heeding her advice and taking by my hands within his own. He quickly pulls me into an open space where he draws me into him – only a few inches of space is between us – and begins prance me about in a Northern style dance.
At first my feet are uncoordinated and stumble about trying to keep up with Robbs pace, but I quickly pick up my pace and match his steps. We prance about in circles, once or twice Robb takes the initiative and spins me outward. All the while we smile and laugh and just enjoy the cheerful, upbeat melody.
As the song comes to an end Robb takes my hand in his and lightly presses a kiss to my knuckles.
"My Lady," he says with a wicked gleam in his eye.
I scoff and tug my hand from his grasp before storming off back towards the tables.
"You danced so well Eliza," Robb says coming up beside me.
"You've seen me dance plenty of times," I retort sitting down at a table.
"But not with skirts on. I half expected you to fall flat on your face."
"Robb!" I slap him on the chest as he sits down beside me.
He pulls two mugs out from the center of the table and hands one to me. "Are you going to sing tonight?" he asks before taking a swig.
"Perhaps," I shrug before taking a sip from my own mug. "If it is required of me I suppose I shall."
I glance about the hall peaking over heads and past tables trying to find a familiar swatch of curly black hair. When I come up with nothing I turn to Robb.
"Where's Jon?"
Robbs cheerful expression falters and he takes a gulp of ale, using the mug as a way to hide his face. When he brings it down again I reproach him with a stare.
"Mother thought it best he didn't attend," Robb says sheepishly.
I sigh and my shoulders droop. Of course she did.
"Do you know where he is?"
"In the stables," Robb responds. "Practicing his swordsmanship."
I nod my head and reach behind Robb for another mug of ale before rising to my feet, a mug in each hand.
"Tell him I'm sorry." Robbs head hands a little. Jon is his brother and I know how much he despises his mistreatment.
"No."
Robb looks up at me surprised.
I smile brightly.
"Because he already knows."
The air has a bite to it when I walk outside. Granted it is probably due to my lack of a cloak, but I did not want to waste time in fetching it.
Long before I near the stables I hear the sound of steel on wood. I turn the corner and Jon's back is facing me. He slams his sword again and again into the hay filled sack in front of him tied to a post. It is plainly obvious from his strokes that he is not practicing his strokes but just aggressively hitting the structure. It's understandable why.
"I think you've killed it." I startle Jon as I come up to the fence surrounding him.
"Eliza?" he says questioningly upon seeing me. His sward drops to his side and his hand indicates to the hall.
"I thought you could use some ale," I don't answer his obvious question of why I've left the party and hold out one of the mugs.
He takes it reluctantly and comes to lean on the side of the fence opposite me.
"You should be inside," he says before bringing the mug up to his lips.
"If I stay in there any longer someone will ask for me to sing," I fake a shudder which results in both of us chuckling.
"You have a lovely voice Eliza," Jon praises me. I nip at my lip.
We sit there for a few moments in totally silence, both of us unsure of what to say. Until I plop my mug down and hop over the fence. Jon looks on me bewildered as I take his sword from his grasp.
"Let us see who can kill the hay-filled beast better shall we?" I sway on my feet and challenge him with a wicked smile.
Jon chuckles. "You're on."
I turn to the pillar and raise the sword in my hand. I strike first at chest height and then at the empty area where the head should be; all within three seconds. Speed has always been one of my best qualities at swordsmanship. I attempt to side step and strike the side but find my foot stepping on the hem of my dress making me stumble. I would have fallen if Jon had not reached out and grabbed my arm to steady me.
"Curse this damned dress!" I cry out to the sky and raise my fists. Jon chuckles behind me. "Stop laughing! If I were in my usual attire then I would have been fine!"
"I'm sure you would have," Jon manages through his laughter. I purse my lips and reluctantly plop the hilt of the sword in his hand before scurrying back over to the fence. As I pull myself up and sit on the top plank Jon begins hacking away at the wood once more.
I'm so distracted by Jon's strokes, and his so clearly obvious negative aura, that I don't hear the horse come galloping up behind me.
"Is it dead yet?" a deep voice shouts out from behind me.
Jon and I both spin round to see a man dressed all in black with long dark hair sitting atop a horse. The man jumps down from his saddle and I hear the clang of metal as Jon drops his sword to the ground. He pushes the gate door to my left open and marches through to meet the black-clothed man. I look on confused until Jon puts a name to the new member of our party.
"Uncle Benjin!"
The two embrace warmly as I hop down off the fence and make my way over to them.
"You got bigger," Benjin says as he pulls out of his nephews arms. I don't think I've ever seen Jon smile as much as he is right now in the presence of his uncle.
It is then that the man catches sight of me over Jons shoulder. "And who might this be?" he asks indicating to me.
Jon spins round and holds his hand out to me. I step forward and take it.
"This is Eliza," Jon introduces me and I bow lowly. "Eliza this is my uncle Benjin."
"It is wonderful to meet you," I say. "I have heard much about you from Jon and Lord Stark."
"I regret to say I haven't heard much about you," Benjin takes my hand in his and nods slightly. "My brother and nephew are not too fond of writing letters. I only hear news when I come to Winterfell, which hasn't been for some time now. Which is why I rode all night," he smiles and looks to Jon. "Didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannister's."
I can't stop myself from snorting and I see a satisfied look from the man of the Nights Watch. It appears every member of the Stark family has a dislike for the Lannisters.
"Will I find you two at the feast?" he asks. My attention instantly falls on Jon who's face falls.
"Lady Stark thought it might insult the royal family to seat a bastard in their mists," he voice is etched with pain and I push my shoulder into him as some form of comfort. Benjin notices this and looks on me with the corners of his lips quirked up.
"Eliza is attending though," Jon adds quickly upon feeling my closer presence.
"I would be honored to accompany you My Lady." Jon chuckles when he feels my hands curl into fists between us. "As for you," Bejin says directing his attention back to Jon. "You are always welcome on the wall. No bastard was ever refused a seat there."
"So take me with you when you go back."
These words have a stronger effect on me that 'Lady' ever could. My shoulders slump and my eyes tear. I nip at my lip. Just the thought of Jon going up to the Wall… knowing that I may never see him again… Benjin sees the expression on my face and I quickly tilt my head down to the ground.
"Jon…"
"Father will let me go if you ask him!" Jon protests. "I know he will."
Silence hangs in the air like a noose and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. Benjin Stark's eyes bore into the top of my head like he's the one wrapping the noose around my throat.
"The Wall isn't going anywhere," he says, his voice cutting the silence and the noose from above me.
"I'm ready to swear your oath," Jon disputes.
"You don't understand what you'd be giving up," Benjin tries to convince Jon, and I can't help but feel like it's for my sake. "We have no families. None of us will ever father sons."
"I don't care about that!" Jon cuts him off.
"You might," the dark haired man looks at me from the corner of his eye. "If you knew what it meant. What you were giving up."
The merry chatter of two drunkards coming out of the hall disrupt the awkward silence that has peireced the air once more.
"I better get inside," Benjin declairs. "Rescue your father from his guests. Lady Eliza?" he holds out his arm to me but I shake my head.
"I was quite faint before. I think I'll stay out a little longer. Take some air."
He nods at me understanding then tunes to Jon. "We'll talk later."
He turns off and heads towards the hall. Jon stands stock still staring after him.
"Jon.."
"Your uncles in the Nights Watch."
We both spin round to see a rather unexpected sight. A man, a dwarf, all dressed in red leather leans up against a barrel off to the side of the barn. I know who he is instantly.
"What are you doing back there?" Jon asks, agitation clear in his voice.
"Preparing for a night with your family," the dwarf utters before taking a chug from a skin help in his grasp. He looks after the black cloak that is disappearing in the direction of the hall. "I've always wanted to see the Wall," he mutters walking closer towards us.
"You're Tyrion Lannister," I say flatly. "The Queens brother."
"My greatest accomplishment," the dwarf declares raising his skin up into the air.
"And you," he says looking up at Jon. "You're Ned Stark's bastard aren't you?" Jon stiffens and his hands curl into fist at his side. I take a step towards him wishing to comfort him in any way that I can, but he pushes past me and back towards the hay-man's post.
"Did I offend you?" Tyrion calls out after him. "Sorry. You are the bastard though?"
"Lord Eddard Stark is my father," Jon replies stopping at the line of the fence.
"And Lady Stark is not your mother," the blonde adds coming up beside me. "Making you: bastard." The look on Jon's face forces me to intervene so as to take some of the tension of the conversation off of him.
"I do not believe we have been introduced," I say boldly, looking down at the small man with a tight smile. "I am…"
"Eliza. Soon to be the wife of Robb Stark and the future Lady of the North," the dwarf says matter-of-factly, cutting me off. "I know who you are as well." A smirk spreads across his face. "However, you are somewhat of a mystery. A young girl appears in the North four years ago, makes a place for herself in a noble and powerful family, and soon will be entering that family through marriage. What game might you be playing Miss Eliza?"
With each word he spoke my temper roared and my hands shook in fists at my sides until I could stand his speaking no longer.
"If you wish to believe me in a negative light feel free to do so. However," my voice rises, "should you believe I have any ill will towards the Stark family or any underlying meaning to my presence amongst them you best hold your tongue!" My outburst causes both the dwarf and Jon to take a step back in surprise.
"The Starks took me in when I was near death, when I was at a point in my life where the only thing I desired was solitude and emptiness. They gave me something to live for and I will spend the rest of my days repaying that favor." I am nearly ready to conclude my shouting when another point he mentioned crosses my mind. "And as to your pervious statement, the marriage between Lord Robb and I was never officially stated to the public because Robb and I refuse to marry. It was a concept set forth by My Lord and Lady without either of our permission or desire. Robb is a dear friend and brother too me and nothing more. I would never bring myself so low as to marry into this family solely for the purpose of greed!"
My chest heaves up and down and I try to steady my breathing. As I do so the two men stare blankly at me, both too shocked to say anything. After I have calmed the realization of what I've just done sinks into my stomach and a sickening feeling washes over me. I hold my demeanor however so as not to show weakness in front of a Lannister. It is when I catch sight of Jon in my peripheral vision that I recall what made me enter this conversation.
"And to add, though Jon may so be a bastard," it sickens me just to use the word. "He is acknowledged as a child of Lord Stark and a sibling to his children. Labeling him as a bastard is unnecessary."
Tyrion looks at my quizzically before turning his head towards the dirt and swishing around the contents of his skin. When he looks back up he has something that resembles compassion in his expression, which throws me off guard. "If that is what you think," he moves his attention from me to Jon. "Let me give you some advice bastard." I grit my teeth at the word and my hand reaches towards my hip for my – presently – nonexistent sword. "Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor! And it can never be used to hurt you."
The hand at my side relaxes and I find myself actually agree with the dwarfs words. I can see the contemplation in Jon's face on whether or not to take what the Lannister says to heart, however I think that he should. The words the small man spoke have the same meaning to the ideas flittering around inside my head that I've wanted to say to Jon myself, I just never found a way to say it. Lord Tyrion's wording makes perfect and logical sense.
"What the hell do you know about being a bastard?" Jon challenges.
Tyrion looks on him with a sad smile. "All dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes."
His attention then shifts onto me. He holds up his hand and says, "Since we are two members of the primary parties of this evening I'm sure our absence has been noticed. Shall we?" To my own disbelief, I take his hand. I look to Jon with a wry smile and he nods his head telling me that he's fine and I should go. At first I am reluctant but I find that Lord Tyrion is probably right and if I don't leave now soon someone will come out searching for me.
We make our way towards the hall and I hear the thump thump thump of metal on wood behind me.
"He is blind."
"I'm sorry My Lord, what?"
"It took his uncle all of three seconds to see your feelings for him, as I'm sure Lord Robb Stark must also know of your feelings, that being one of the reasons you two do not wish to marry. However the Snow boy is blind to it."
I stare down at the dwarf my mouth agape. This man has known me for all of a minute and he has seen right through me and forced me to let out a side of myself that has been hidden away since I arrived in the North. As we enter the hall and the dwarf releases my hand and trots off in the direction of his brother I can't help but stare after him. Who is this Tyrion Lannister?
"Oh Eliza! There you are!"
The cry of my name draws my attention to a fairly drunken Robb standing atop one of the dinning tables. He holds a mug of ale in his hand and stumbles about on the table top knocking over food and others drinks.
"How about a song?" he cries out above the crowd and all eyes are drawn on me. Those that are from the North and know me cheer and raise their mugs towards me agreeing with Robb's idea.
"The girl sings?" King Robert bellows over the wench seated on his lap. His voice is slurred and his face rosy red from wine.
"Aye that she does!" Robb cries out hopping off the table and jogging towards me. "Please my fair, fair lady," he winces when he realizes mistake and quickly mouths 'sorry'. "I beg of you lovely Eliza," he kneels before me. "Grace us with one of your lovely songs!"
I can't hold in my laughter. "Oh all right!" I cry out and the room cheers.
I tug Robb up to his feet. "Give me your sword," I ask, my hand out held.
"Oh, so we are to be graced with a dance as well," Robb smiles brightly and unsheathes his sword. I quickly take it from him before he accidentally stabs himself with it.
"Go sit down you bloody idiot," I reproach before making my way to the center of the hall. As I do I nod my head towards the band and when the young violinist sees the blade in my hand he knows exactly the song I am going to sing.
I take my place in the center of the hall and for the first time that night the entire room goes silent. I hold the sword out in front of my, both my hands on the hilt, one on top of the other, and the music begins:
The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing.
The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,
and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,
"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
the Dornishman's taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!"
As I sing I twirl the sword around in intricate patterns and designs. I step and jump round in ways that no one in the North, and I'm sure even in the South, have seen since I displayed them. After all it isn't truly a dance but a sword fighting style from across the Narrow Sea that I have adapted to make more elegant. It was a pastime done simply out of boredom but one day Sansa saw me do it and asked if I could perform for them, and so my sword fighting also became dance.
The song comes to an end with my knees on the floor and my arms held out before me with the sword laying in my hands; my left hand holds the blade while my right clutches the grip. When the last beat of the drum stops there is a few seconds of silence before thundering applause meets my ears.
Robb comes up and holds his hands out to me. "Amazing as usual," he compliments and he helps me to my feet. I nod as a show of thanks. He reaches out for the sword and I pull it out of his grasp.
"If you think I'm letting your drunken ass take this freshly sharpened blade than the Crone did not give you enough wisdom," I reprimand him but he merely laughs and leans over me to grab at his sword again. I shove him off and flip the sword around in my grasp so that the blade is pointed towards him.
"You couldn't beat me with your own blade. You wish to fight me bare handed?" I challenge and he quickly backs away. I tuck the sword into the red rope tied round my waist – it feels good to have a sword at my side again. Robb escorts me over so that we may take our seats at the head table where I am greeted by a very displeased looking Catelyn. Clearly she does not approve of me pointing a sword at her son in the presence of the royal family.
"My apologies My Lady," I say as I sit down beside her. "You know that I would never harm Robb."
"It isn't my son I'm worried about," the woman declairs rather merrily. "It is that dress. The blade has already torn the out layer of your skirts Eliza." I peer down to see that she is right.
I look up at her sheepishly. "I am sorry My Lady."
"It is quite alright," Catelyn sighs. "Your performance was amazing as usual."
"Thank you My Lady." I glance across the table in search of the younger Starks. I see Sansa seated beside her lady's maids, the three young girls are working at a stain that has emerged on Sansa's collar. I glance down a ways in search of Arya only to find she is not seated anywhere at the table.
"Where is Arya?" I ask turning to Robb.
"She decided to have a little fun with the stew," he indicates towards Sansa and now I understand the presence of the stain. "Mother had me put her to bed with the boys shortly before you started singing."
"Well aren't you a caring older brother," I chide pinching playfully at his cheeks.
"Stop that!" he cries brushing my hand away.
"Perhaps you should go to bed too," I say. "Your face looks a little flushed from all that wine."
"I only had three cups!" he squelches before a rumbling burp leaves his throat.
"And it would appear that three is your limit," I laugh.
"You are not my mother nor my wife. I don't have to do as you say."
"True, but I am your friend and as your friend I don't want to be washing vomit off of you later tonight. Which I will be doing if you don't stop drinking and get some rest."
I scoffs and clumsily rises to his feet. I stand up beside him so that he may lean on my shoulder.
"If you say so La… Eliza."
"Come on," I say beginning to lead him towards the exit. "You know you weight a ton Robb, picking up your feet would be quite helpful," I grunt from underneath him.
"Yes, yes, yes. As you say Eliza hater of the word 'lady' of the North." His words slur together and I can hardly understand them as we stumble our way through the hall.
"I'm going to laugh all day tomorrow when you complain of a headache during the hunt," I chortle.
"I'll be fine!"