Disclaimer – I don't own the ASOIAF series. GRRM does.
Chapter Two
ARYA
It was a long ride from Winterfell to King's Landing; all the while they followed the King's Road, stopping frequently for the comfort of the royal party. At first Arya enjoyed herself; taking in the scenery and striking up conversation with her fellow riders. A popular topic of conversation was horses and why she had chosen to ride instead of travelling in the wheelhouse with the other ladies. Even the Lannister men took an interest in how she'd managed to acquire her purebred Valyrian mare that she'd named Midnight for her sleek black coat.
But as fatigue set in conversation died out and Arya was left to her own thoughts. Her departure from Winterfell came to mind. It was not only she and her father that were leaving; Sansa and Bran were also coming with them. Bran would be leaving them when they reached the Forks but her sister would be accompanying them all the way to the capital before going on to Highgarden to marry its heir – Willas Tyrell.
Jon, on the other hand, was going further north to the Wall so that he could become a member of the Night's Watch. Arya had tried to talk him out of it for she knew how dangerous it would soon be there. But her brother would not hear of it. Now that everyone was leaving he felt that he should do the same. Though he had not said anything else, Arya had seen his eyes shift to her lady mother for a second.
It was no secret that Lady Catelyn wanted Jon gone. Especially now that most of her other children and her husband were also leaving. Arya spurred Midnight on, trying to direct her thoughts to what lay ahead. There was nothing she could do about the two of them now.
They stopped to rest for a few nights at the Neck. On the day before they set off again Arya was tying Midnight to a tree and feeding her sugar lumps that she had taken from the kitchen in Winterfell and saved for the journey, Nymeria napping beside her feet. The mare neighed in delight; they were her favourite. At that moment Prince Joffrey and his large knight drew near behind her.
'My Lady,' he said, by way of greeting and Arya smiled hers before turning her attention back to the horse.
Joffrey cleared his throat, prompting her to turn back again. She put on a curious expression. 'Is there something that you need, my prince?' she asked politely.
Having now gained her attention, he straightened and said in an insincerely bored tone. 'I was wondering if you would wish to accompany me for a walk.'
Arya made sure her smile was bright as she took the prince's arm. 'I would be honoured,' she lied.
The two of them followed a partial path in the wood, headed for the river. They chatted constantly, Arya putting on her best smiles and complimenting him regularly. About half way he got a wineskin from Clegane before dismissing him. He insisted she have some too, ignoring her protests concerning her father's rules. She took little sips and fiddled with the cap.
As they reached the river, Arya saw a face she hadn't seen in years. Mycah. She dropped the wineskin, drawing the notice of the butcher boy who was washing something in the river. At once he rose then went back down in a respectful boy. He saw the wineskin and gingerly picked it up to hand to her.
She recovered herself and thanked him kindly. A blush painted itself on the boy's face, much to the displeasure of Joffrey.
'Who do you think you are staring at like that, peasant?' he asked, snidely.
The boy looked startled. 'M-milord?'
'I am the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms and that is my future bride you were making eyes at. I should kill you right here.' Joffrey reached for the hilt of his sword but Arya stopped him.
Just as he was about to round on her she kissed him. He was so stunned that his hand dropped from the sword and instead moved to her lower back along with the other. Her hand restedgently on his upper arm and the other she reached out to wave Mycah away. Assured that the boy was far out of Joffrey's reach, she pulled away. The prince made a moan of protest but Arya just giggle and spun away from him, encouraging him to try and catch her. He didn't and neither did he speak to her again until they reached the city gates.
The large, cast iron doors of the River Gate slowly swung open, finally giving them access to their destination. The massive crowds that awaited them astonished her. Never had she seen so many people gathered in one place. It had not been this way the last time her father had ventured south. Arya hoped it was a good sign; it certainly seemed that way.
'Long live the Hand!'
'Long live the King!'
'Long live Prince Joffrey!'
The smallfolk belted out such sentiments constantly as the rode the path to the Red Keep which was now her new home, most likely forever. Other members of their party were praised by the masses too. The Kingslayer and Queen Cersei for example. The twins basked in their glory; the queen especially.
As they entered the Red Keep, the heavy oak doors of the castle closed behind them, muting the roar of the crowds. The interior of the castle was huge; much bigger than the one at Winterfell and much more extravagantly decorated. There were banners everywhere. Most were Baratheon stags but there were also a number of them with golden lions on red fields. Lannister banners, Arya noted with distain.
But as soon as her feet touched the ground of the courtyard and a stableboy took the reins of her horse, Arya suddenly felt far too tired to explore. Her father had a servant show her to her new chamber in the Tower of the Hand. As soon as she was alone she collapsed upon the bed and fell asleep.
While her father completed his duties as Hand Arya spend most of her days with Queen Cersei and Princess Myrcella. The younger girl was agreeable enough and Arya could even imagine them becoming friends with time but the company of the queen was almost unbearable. Still, she dared not complain to her father. He had enough to deal with; that much was evident through the deepening lines on his face and the bags under his eyes sprouting from stress and lack of sleep, that she observed as they broke their fast together each morning.
So Arya decided to take matters into her own hands.
She was sitting in the queen's solar; sewing and conversing along with a few other ladies. A couple of wives of Lannister bannermen had joined them. So had Margaery Tyrell. Arya had heard the rumours about her reasons for coming to court; it was said that the Tyrells were an ambitious bunch and had their sights set on the position of queen for Margaery which was why, at twenty, the beautiful highborn lady was still unmarried and, from what Arya remembered about the girl's past marriages, was most likely the case. She decided to keep an eye on her suspected rival.
This was made very easy as Margaery was not only her soon-to-be good-sister but she also seemed to be having similar thoughts to Arya; no doubt seeing the intimate looks Joffrey gave her at feasts, having already forgiven her for toying with him at the Neck.
His mother, however, was not so fond of her. In fact the more time that she and the prince spent together in the evenings, the more critical Cersei became of everything Arya did; from her home region to how she dressed.
Arya was expecting, given the presence of the additional guests, that she would try to humiliate her in some way or another and the queen did not disappoint her.
The ladies in the solar had been silent for a few moments when Cersei remarked, 'Margaery your embroidery is simply lovely!' She smiled at the Tyrell girl before turning to Arya.
'And what have you managed to come up with, Lady Arya? I'm sure whatever it is it cannot be compared to Lady Margaery's,' she said, lifting the embroidery from her lap and displaying it to the other ladies, receiving coos and compliments all round.
Arya smiled at her future good-mother. 'You are right, Your Highness. Lady Margaery is indeed far more skilled than I. But I still hope that Prince Joffrey will appreciate my gift.' With that Arya held up a remarkable likeness of the crown prince and watched the nasty smirk fall from the older woman's face. Everyone else gasped, even Margaery, and set about asking her questions. Where had she learned such skill and how had she sewn her subject so accurately.
'I spent some time in Myr; they have some of the most skilled embroiderers in the world there and I was fortunate enough to learn some things from them. And as for the likeness…' she trailed of, blushing like a maiden in love, '… the prince is never far from my thoughts.'
The ladies erupted into a string of awws and eventually they resumed sewing. After that Cersei Lannister never tried anything like that again in any of their similar meetings that followed
It was after one such session, as Arya was walking down the halls in the direction of the courtyard and thinking about how she could speed up her plans for Joffrey, when she came across a young cat. Its golden tail was caught beneath a closed door and the little creature was struggling and mewling in distress.
Struck with pity, Arya rescued the poor thing. Just as she scooped the grateful cat into her arms, she heard fast footsteps behind her and turned to see Prince Tommen running towards her, checks red and eyes anxious. When he reached her he had to spend a few minutes catching his breath before he spoke. During which he gestured to the animal in her arms with unintelligible words.
She got the point, however, and handed him the cat. Tommen examined the thing for any injuries and satisfied there was nothing serious he turned his attention to her.
'Thank-you,' he said beaming at her.
'It was nothing,' she replied and made a move to leave. Joffrey was expecting her and he would not take it well if she were late. In fact he would probably come looking for her… A devious thought occurred to Arya as she recalled the incident at the Neck. She smiled sweetly at the young prince, rousing a blush on his alabaster checks.
'So. Does this little beauty have a name?'
JOFFREY
Joffrey stood at the edge of the courtyard, looking around for his betrothed. They had arranged to meet a quarter bell ago but still there was no sign of her and he was losing patience. He hated being the first to arrive; it made him seem too eager, and after a few minutes he had sent the dog to find her. He was returning now.
'So did you find her?' he demanded. He was disgusted by the frustration in his voice.
'Yes,' the large man grunted. 'She's in the hall outside your mother's solar,' he pointed in its direction. 'Speaking with your brother.'
Immediately anger irrupted inside Joffrey. 'What?' he gritted out. Not waiting for an answer he pushed by his bodyguard and stomped his way towards the only person who had ever made him wait.
ARYA
Out of the corner of her eye Arya saw Joffrey approach. She made sure to fit in one last giggle at one of Tommen's japes before letting out a shocked gasp as he grabbed her arm with one hand and knocked his younger brother to the ground with his fist.
'You stay away from her, or else!' he growled, jabbing an accusing finger at the stunned boy before dragging her out of the castle, through the courtyard to push her against the stone wall of the Red Keep. Hidden from the view of others.
'What were you doing? Why were you with him?' he interrogated, face red with anger. Arya hid a smile and baited him further.
'Why are you so angry? There is no reason why I shouldn't speak with him. He's nice.'
'You are my betrothed!' he yelled, shaking her slightly.
She responded calmly. 'No I'm not. Nothing is set in stone. My father has yet to agree and Tommen is closer to me in age. Also-'
Arya didn't get to finish. Joffrey had closed her mouth over with his. His lips sliding over hers in hard possession, his tongue invading every crevice of her mouth. They kissed until dark, when it was time for dinner.
At the table Arya bit her still swollen lips, trying to hide a satisfied smile as King Robert announced the official betrothal between her and the crown prince and the date of their wedding. Two months from then.
The sun was at the highest point in the sky as Prince Joffrey Baratheon unfastened her maidens cloak and replaced it with a crowned stag embroidered one in the Baratheon colours of black and yellow. From her place at the altar, she was able to spot her parents and siblings; side by side along with Sansa's husband and his sister, whose smile was somewhat pinched now that the position of queen was now well and truly out of her grasp.
Hundreds were present in the Great Sept, even more than when she'd first arrived in the city, witnessing the union of the future king and the Hand's daughter. But the shouted congratulations from their noble guests could not even compare to the roaring cheers of the smallfolk as Arya and her husband descended the steps of the sept and rode down Visenya's Hill. They threw flowers and bellowed good wishes and compliments. Joffrey shone with pride as he lapped up their adoration.
It wasn't until he looked over to her that she saw his true feeling in his expression. Triumph. He thought that their little game of cat and mouse was over and believed himself the victor. He was wrong on both counts. He had already fallen into her trap and this was only the beginning.
Compared to the long, drawn-out ceremony, presided over by the grossly fat High Septon with his nasally, self-important voice Arya much preferred the wedding feast. But even the companionship of her family and the hilarious japes provided by the Imp could not distract her from what would happen later that night. The Bedding. It certainly did not help that Joffrey kept sending her meaningful looks and even on occasion squeezing her leg under the table.
It wasn't that she was worried. She had had sex before during her 'exploration' of the Free Cities. But was necessary to fully master the art of love-making. No, everything would go as planned and Joffrey would be more than satisfied with her. But just the thought of him touching her made her want vomit. Still, if she wanted to succeed in her mission she had to have as much influence over him as possible and the best way for her to do that was to control his cock.
All too soon, the king stood up, rather clumsily, already fully drunk and pronounced it time for the Bedding to begin. At once multiple pairs of hand assaulted her, his included, ripping off her clothes and manoeuvring her towards the bedchamber, all the while telling her vulgar japes about what happened between the sheets.
By the time Arya was bundled into the bedroom, she was completely nude and felt dirty from all the men who had laid their hands on her. Joffrey was already there and as she stepped further into the room he looked her over appreciatively.
His eyes darkened with desire as he took in her naked form. But Arya made no move to cover herself. Joffrey licked his lips and stalked towards her.
When he reached her he pulled her flush against his body and already she could feel the evidence of his arousal poking at her thigh. She pushed her hips towards it, inciting a moan from her new husband. He leant forward and kissed her, driving his tongue forcefully past her lips.
They began to move towards the middle of the chamber, mouths still connected, even as he leaned her back onto the end of the bed.
After they shuffled their way to the its centre and Arya lay her head on the soft, silken pillows Joffrey moved his lips to her ear. She caught the strong scent of wine on his breath and resisted the urge to gag as he whispered for her to spread her legs.
She complied hesitantly, playing the part of an innocent maiden. But that and the false cry she gave as he broke her non-existent maidenhead were both lost on Joffrey as he plunged in and out of her wetness. If she had truly been a virgin no doubt she would have been in a world of pain right now.
As it was she simply let out loud sighs of pleasure as the prince devoured her mouth and groped her breasts, all the while thrusting his hips into hers as fast as he could. As his pleasure grew his grip tightened and he began to scratch and bite her too. So ferociously that Arya knew she would be covered in cuts and bruises when morning came.
He came twice inside her; the first time letting out a harsh grunt and pressing their hips together as close as they could go without becoming one and the second time she was the one to push him over the edge as she tightened her walls in a fake orgasm.
After that he collapsed on top of her, exhausted, knocking the air from her lungs. She took in small, somewhat even breaths and waited for him to fall asleep. It wasn't long until she could hear him snoring softly. She disengaged herself from his limbs, climbed off the bed gently and moved to the vanity at the side of the room. She opened one of the drawers, removed the false bottom and lifted out a small blade. She made a shallow cut on the crease of her elbow and smeared as much blood as she could near the spot where Joffrey had first entered her.
She then returned the blade and replaced it in her hand with a small paper package that she had also slipped in in preparation for this night. She tore the top off and swallowed its bitter contents in one go before burning the waste paper in the fire the servants had lit to keep the newly married couple warm through the night.
Before getting back into bed she lifted a towel a kind maid had thought to leave and used it to wipe Joffrey's seed from between her legs. The seed that she had just ensured would never take root.
AN – Here you go; another chapter. I posted this one fast to make up for the big gap between the last two. Also it was much easier to write because we've finally gotten to the main part of the story. Excitement! And now that it's here I am about to start working on another fic in the same category (and still Arya-based, of course). So feel free to check it out. …Oh, and please review!