AN: OMG! It has been so long. I was really busy this summer! I was sure I forgot how to write. you guys are the best reviewers ever! I used to write fanfiction and then I'd get bored and just stop and leave the stories unfinished but I don't want to do that anymore.

Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy!

Chapter 4

She was sweating for sure. The solid fabric clung to her and held in all the sweat. But that was less annoying then the current situation the young she-wolf had found herself in.

Her ankle was healing well enough but in the time between injured and healed Arya was left with no excuse not to dress the part of noble lady or to deny the invitations of the other ladies of King's landing and especially not the queen's gracious requests.

Arya could keep her mouth shut sulk silently to herself but since her very private agreement to marry Aegon all the stupid ladies of the court felt the need to titter with her about silly things such a bards, needlework and the weather.

On this such day, Arya was forced to be entertained by lady Tarla and her thirteen year old daughter Blossom. An unfortunate name for such an unbecoming child. The child looked as miserable as Arya felt. Her mother was blathering about roots to increase fertility and Arya was pretending not to be looking at the mole on the upper cheek of the older lady. Arya could hear Blossom's stomach growling and was sure she wasn't the only one.

"If I don't eat soon I might start gnawing on my own arm." Arya offered to the very red faced girl.

There was a slight muttering from some of the other women who chose to skirt around the young Stark woman and watch her with contempt looks and humourless laughs. The funny thing was Arya was used to being the odd one. She had never fit in with the girls and the boys rarely knew how to approach her even her own men were sometimes wary about her. It was a strength that bit of unpredictability, it left others confused.

Arya would have said as much to the ladies if not for the Queen's arrival. She was dressed nicely enough in a subtle capital dress in pale lavender with an ivory lace detail along the collar and sleeves. She seemed to be the only one unbothered by the hot weather.

"Welcome guests, I am so happy to have you share this day with me." When her eyes scanned over them all she let her eyes retrack back to Arya and let a warm smile grace her face. She moved effortlessly towards the less refined younger woman.

"It is so good to see the future bride of my blood." She said looking only at Arya but projecting herself for the rest to hear. Arya wasn't sure but it looked the queen took on a smug look as the feel of the outing changed. Danaerys was making them see her differently.

"Let us begin our walk."

Arya walked beside Danearys, their arms linked.

"How is your ankle feeling?"

"Better."

It was, but the measter had threatened her enough times that any exertion will hinder its healing. It made Arya pissed to know that her measter or betrothed felt the need to tell everyone in the castle. She was not allowed to walk up the stairs without a man to support her. Since she could not practice her combat or horseback ride she was forced into dresses every morning, each worse than the last.

The past few days she had been made to accept visitors all offering the same condolences or bringing her gifts she didn't need. She felt as though she would soon meet her unraveling.

Before them was a table filled with ripe and colourful food. A thin artisan linen covering the long harvest table. Over the food was a lengthy was a canopy in a sunset orange and balancing the lavender of the Queen's gown.

Arya was seated to the right of Daenerys, the place of honour. At the farther end of the table sat Blossum and her mother. Arya smiled at the girl when she caught her looking.

" You brothers have confirmed that they shall be arriving in two months for the wedding."

Whenever she thought she could forget about her circumstances, even for a moment there was someone there to remind her. It was like some cosmic power had wanted to make up for the last 9 years of her not having to worry about marrying some awful lord. Her fate had caught up with her and clung to her like a shadow. Arya knew what she was supposed to say to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she was supposed to smile and say how pleased she would be to show her family to her betrothed and his aunt. She saw supposed to blush and assure her majesty that she would be a good and faithful wife to Aegon Targareon. That was not her though she didn't want to say anything because she knew the wrong words would come out. So she tried to smile and nod.

Daenerys took her hand and squeezed it. Arya looked at the queen and couldn't tell if she felt better or worse. The queen had been sold to her husband and still she sympathized with a girl who was put into a smart match by brothers who loved her. She just wished they realized how much this didn't suite her.

The lunch was good but for once Arya did not feel hungry. She tried to be polite and restrained as she was made to speak with the noble women. When it was acceptable Arya made an excuse about her ankle and walked away from the others.

She didn't want to have to be near anyone.

She found her feet leading her to the library a place she had rarely gone but was sure to find noone interested in talking to her. Only measters came here. The room was massive with shelves of upon shelves covered with books from all across the world. On one table there was a copy of the tales of westeros. It was a book that often led her to sleep as a girl with her father reading to her of the great battles and fierce warriors.

"Lady Stark, what a rare and pleasant sight."

Arya had forgotten about the little Lannister. He was probably the only person that read more books than a measter. She turned to him and nodded. He was unnerving. His face was horrible but she had seen worse. His eyes were always filled with knowing and that was what truly made him hard to look at.

"A pity , you just missed Lord Targareon."

"Woe is me." She said as she slumped into the chair across from the little man. He smiled but he put down his own book.

" You know I have seen a few weddings and not all end in happiness."

"And you predict mine to? I'm not a lady and I don't want to be treated like one."

The little man smiled with the type of amusement one might bestow on a small child. It was only making her angier.

"You are being quite selfish don't you think? How many girls before you were made to marry men they hardly and yet act as though it were true love? Why should any of us have a perfect matching? Surely you know of the Queen's own marriages and she was much younger than you."

Arya felt her cheeks burn.

"It will be scary- knowing the responsibility you're getting but it will also grant you some power to influence others, to be like your father or brothers."

She didn't reply . She kept her eyes intent on the book in her hands. She didn't want to read so she bore scorch marks into the pictures with her eyes. When she heard the suffling she looked up to see Tyrion hobble out of his chair. He made to leave but not before casually saying;

"Funny, Lord Targareon was just reading that book."

She could hardly stay in the library now, or ever for that matter.

She left the book on a chair and left the library. It was funny how her ankle was compromised but still she was made to wear lady's footwear. They clung too tightly and made too much noise. She clacked her way out of the castle anyhow.

The sun was welcoming and the smell of dirt and life greeting her. Her body relaxed as she was now in a place she understood. Stomping through the well trodden ground through the camp she felt the eyes of whores, sellswords, farmers, and lesser knights on her and she reveled in it. Her shoulders back and her skirts clasped almost mockingly in her hands. She did a mocking curtsey past one group of familiars but she was not hear to entertain her men. The sound of steel on steel sounded more pleasing than any song could.

Making her way to the makeshift fighting ground they had set up perhaps three months past. Arya was not surprised to see the young boys watching the older boys in the ring trying to hit eachother. She grinned when some of the younger boys caught sight of her and burst into fits of laughter. She moved towards the boys sparring until her stomach touched the fence.

"You are not made of stone- move! Defend your left. Left! If you dare flinch I shall beat you myself!"

"m-milday!"

Arya had not heard the younger boy come up behind her. His eyes looked like they might burst. Arya did not now the boys name she only knew he was an orphan who had been stumbling about with her group for the past year. She was honestly surprised he was still alive. The boy was a thin thing with straw coloured hair and soft brown eyes that matched the freckled on his face. He always looked so fragile. He was small for his age, perhaps the same height as herself. She smiled to him and waved him over. Gods, he seemed even more frightened of that. Most of the men had adjusted to the little fact that they were being led by a small woman of nine and ten with a rather large direwolf.

She watched the boys duel but could feel the look she was getting from the young man to her left.

"What is troubling you, boy?" she tried to soften her voice though it was never really who she was.

" Nothing Milady."

She internally cringed. The word was so feeble sounding. She would have to get used to now that the war was done. With the tension loosening there was no need for strong women only fertile. She ran her hand through her hair, there were less tangles and she could smell the flowery oils and thought how sill they were. It was fighting the inevitable, she would get dirty and her hair would become a mess only fit for the birds. Her mother had spent so much time trying to make her into something beautiful and polished like Sansa but nothing ever stuck .

She watched the boys fighting and thought of happier times. She thought of crisp autumn leaves that cheered her when she made a good swing at one of her brother or the village boys. She remember how they would collect in her hand like a squirrel's nest or the most amazing crown ever.

Walking to the opening of the fence, Arya entered. The boys stopped, their faces splotched with much and their eyes on her. They were local boys just wanted to pretend to be something weren't if only for a brief moment. Arya could relate.

" If you are going to practice, you should at least practice right." She turned to the young man who had joined her and now looked on.

"Boy, grab two wooden swords."

He was surprised she spoke to him but did as she asked. She turned to the boys.

"Get on your toes. Knees bent slightly and shoulder width apart. Good."

She walked up to the blacked haired boy and put her hand gently on his back.

"Keep it straight."

She pushed the other boy and frowned as her tumbled on the ground.

"Strong legs."

She helped the boy up and checked his legs she pushed at them until she was satisfied that they were held better. By now a crowd was forming of village children. All watching the noble lady in her tattered dress teach local farm boys and bastards learn to fight.

"Balance your weight on your toes. It's not about making cheap hits but out maneuvering your opponent."

She let them fight and then rounded up more children to fight some of the younger ones she got to chase the boy from her camp.

By the time, the sun began to set all the children were a mess and her camp boy was exhausted with a clump of children on him and one particular child gnawing on his arm. Arya smiled and realized it was a little girl.

"Alright you lot, time to head off." She turned to her camp boy and got him to help her put away the little swords and pry a few away from the boys.

"I'm starving and I did barely anything."

"Does your ankle still bother you, Milady?"

"Only some. I wish I could ride my horse or help those boys with their swords." She turned and smiled at him. "You'll have to show them how it's done, right"

He blushed and looked down, a frown on his face.

"Milady, I am only a cook. I haven't even held a sword before today."

She stopped.

"Well that won't do. How old are you boy?"

"four and ten, Milady."

She looked him up and down, he looked soft with thin limbs and a spread of pimples on his face and neck.

"Tomorrow you'll get your first lesson with the sword."

For the next few days, Arya would wake up, allow her maids to put her into whatever dress wasn't to badly ruined and then head to the camp ground. She would train her cook and the village boys. The sight would sometimes gather attention but she ignored it. It gave her something to look forward too. It made the bather more bearable.

Arya barely noticed the time pass until she was seated in the measter's room.

"I think you shall be able to fully use your ankle now, Lady Arya."

Yes! Those golden words she had waited for. Arya thanked the measter perhaps a thousands times. She knew she sounded foolish by the look on her guards face. As soon as she was out of the room she ran to her chamber, nearly knocking over a maid and heading for her trunk of clothing.

She no longer need to wear dresses. No more girdles or stockings. She dug trough her clothing looking for her tunics and pants but came up short.

That can't be right.

She got up then and sighed in frustration, turned on her maid,

"Where are my clothing?"

The maid had a guilty look about her or maybe Arya just wanted to accuse everyone.

"Lord Targareon had the them replaced, My lady."

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