Hey! Sorry for the long wait. Finals have kept me busy but now that summers here I promise that more chapters are coming at you!
Also want to take the chance to thank all of you for supporting my story
Lessons
"I don't want to walk around the castle! Can't you just leave me alone!" Sansa cried before slamming her door closed in the Septons face.
"Young lady," the Septon bellows through the door. "You must familiarize yourself with the histories of the Seven Kingdoms! The easiest way to accomplish this is to show you where significant events took place. Touring the castle and learning its history will help you when you become queen."
"Just leave me alone!"
I hear the shattering of glass cut through the wooden door.
Septon sighs and turns away from the door to me. "Do something would you?"
"Why do I have to do anything?" I argue. "If she doesn't want to why should she have to?"
"She needs to understand the workings of the castle before she becomes queen."
You think I want her to become queen? I'm thrilled her behavior has altered so much. The fact that she's arguing about her lessons – something I've never seen her do before – for, what I believe to be, is a new desire not to be queen, is the first good news I've had since arriving in this cursed place.
"You are the only one she'll listen to Eliza," the Septon implores coming closer to me.
"What's the big deal?" I grumble crossing my arms over my chest. "So she doesn't learn her lessons for today about how the iron throne was constructed. Why does that matter?"
"It is not just the construction of the throne that is significant," Septon implores, her eyes growing wide. "It is what the throne symbolizes: the weight of a crown is unimaginable. The weight of seven kingdoms… that could crush a girl like Sansa. The weak and feeble minded would be destroyed on the Iron Throne. She needs to be prepared for what is to come."
I growl and tap the back of my head against the stone wall. "Fine…" I sigh and reluctantly push myself off from the wall and out of the shadows.
"Thank you Eliza," Septon says with a bow.
"Don't thank me yet," I say, scratching at the base of my neck where a tiny bit of stone swings in my hair. "Just because I speak with her doesn't mean she'll change her mind."
Translation: Gods I hope that I don't change her mind.
I don't even tap on the door, I just push it open and clamp it shut behind me.
Sansa sits on the edge of her bed, the glass doll Ned had given her at dinner lays in her lap. Her fingers play with the thick strands of horse hair protruding from the dolls head absentmindedly. I clear my throat in an attempt to get her attention but I get no reaction from the girl. I attempt once more, this time a little loud, but again I am greeted with no response.
Okay then. I strut over to the bed and violently thrust myself onto the feathered mattress beside the unsuspecting girl. Sansa startles and turns to me with large deer eyes.
"Hello," I greet her with a cheery, wide-toothed smile.
"Hello…" she responds slowly, like I'm a predator on the hunt.
I look from her pale wide-eyed face down to her hands; her fingers enwrapped by the dolls hair.
"I thought you didn't play with dolls anymore?" I say pointing down into her lap.
"I don't!" Sansa barks. She untangles her fingers from the red hair and picks the doll up by its fragile glass head. I see a crack begin to form as she rises up from her seat on the bed and storms over to her dressing table. The flings the doll up against the wall and it falls into a seated position, staring blankly into the air of the room. Sansa stomps away from it and drops back down beside me on the bed. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares out the window in a huff avoiding eye contact with me.
I sigh and dramatically let myself fall backwards onto the bed.
"You know, I respect your decision to stay cooped up in here," I say tucking my hands behind my head. "Staying inside a dark room reminds me a lot of home. If you miss Winterfell so bad I can always speak to your father and request our departure. The two of us could go back home, and you wouldn't have to marry prince Joffrey."
"I don't want to go home!" Sansa screeches as she leaps off the bed and spins around to face me. "I love Joffrey! I want to stay here and become his queen!"
"It doesn't appear you do though Sansa," I say calmly pushing myself back up into a seated position. "If you want to become queen you need to understand what it means to be a queen. You can't just lock yourself in your room because something bad has befallen you. Becoming queen means putting aside your sorrows to help the people with theirs. If you become queen you can't hide away in your room because you are upset, or frightened, or unable to handle what comes to you. You will be responsible for thousands of citizens, and all of them must come before yourself. And in order to become a good queen, you must learn what it means to be a queen."
Sansa stands stock still staring down at me. Her lips slightly parted and her brow furrowed.
"Are those the kinds of speeches you give my father?"
I chuckle and wrest my elbows on my knees. "Sometimes," I say. "There are other occasions where I shout at him until he listens."
"I can understand now why my father has so much faith in you," Sansa says, swaying slightly on her feet. After a few moments she finally makes up her mind and sits down beside me.
"It's not just about Lady," her voice trembles at the direwolfs name and I take her hand in mine. Her fingers tighten around mine. "Ever since that day Joffrey hasn't said a word to me. He hasn't even looked at me," her voice has a choking sense to it, like she's holding back tears.
A puff of air escapes my lips. This is about Joffrey. Of course it's about Joffrey.
I'd noticed myself how the boy hadn't once paid a visit to his fiancé since our arrival in Kings Landing. Any time I have had the pleasure of crossing paths with the crown prince he'd inquire as to my comfortableness with my new surroundings – which then I would politely reply 'I am content' and storm off. Not once had he asked how Sansa was or even mentioned her name. The little runt was a spoiled brat that was too embarrassed to be mature enough to look Sansa in the eye. Coward. With each passing day in this place my disgust for that boy seems to be growing.
"What's wrong?" Sansa questions me and I quickly shake the image of Joffrey's leering eyes from my mind.
"Sansa," I say taking her hands in mine. "Since it appears you have not yet learned this lesson by growing up with your brother's then I suppose it is my duty to tell you." Sansa stares at me intently awaiting my words of wisdom. I clutch her hands tighter and deepen our eye contact.
"Men. Are. Idiots."
As she did earlier, Sansa stares at me without moving, our hands hung in the air between us.
Suddenly her bottom lip starts to tremble and her shoulders bounce. Then her mouth falls open and shrieks of laughter waft out of it. Our hands fall back down into our laps and Sansa keels over in a fit of giggles clutching at her side.
Finally. It took nearly a month to finally get her to laugh again. Gods I missed this girls smile.
"Eliza, how is it that you always know what to say?" Sansa chokes out between giggles.
"Because I have seen many things and learned much through my short years, but the stupidity of the male population is the greatest lesson I have ever come to understand."
This results in another fit of laughter and Sansa falls over on her side causing the mattress to bounce beneath me.
I wait patiently for her laughter to die out and when it does Sansa pulls herself back up beside me. I expect to see a cheerful smile still vibrantly plastered across her face when I look upon her however the gloomy expression is once again present on her face.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Do you think I'll be a good queen?"
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her head down into the crook of my neck. "Sansa, I think that you will be an amazing queen. You just need to learn what a queen is first."
"Is this your way of telling me to go to my lessons?"
"Yes," I smile cheekily.
Sansa sighs. "Alright then."
Sansa asked me to accompany her to her lessons, something I have never done before. Back at Winterfell I trained with Robb and Jon, I didn't take interest in sowing, or manners, or any other activity a proper lady should learn. I still don't think knowledge about utensils, stitching flowers, and any of that stuff can help a girl survive in this world, however I'm intrigued by the histories of the Seven Kingdoms.
I've spent a majority of my life across the Narrow Sea. The little I know of the Seven Kingdoms is from the whispers and meetings I've overheard whilst I was in Winterfell. Actually hearing entire tales and facts of the forging of the Kingdoms astonishes me. The only war I'd known of until today was King Roberts Rebellion and some of the history of the Stark family. Hearing about dragons and the original forging of the kingdoms is so intruding.
"I've heard these stories a thousand times," Sansa complains, rolling her eyes as we enter the red keep.
"Just because you can recite the tales doesn't mean you understand the meaning and lessons behind them young lady," Septon retaliates with a sharp tongue.
"It's not as if knowing the name of the lord that married some old Targaryen will actually matter when I become queen," Sansa mumbles. The Septon glares over her shoulder at the young girl but she just continues to stare at her feet.
"Now I am sure you know of the Iron throne. The place of the King for hundreds of years in the Seven Kingdoms. Formed by Aegon Targaryen; whose family sat upon it until King Robert claimed the throne," the Septon says. "Someday your husband will sit there." She holds her hand out indicating to the Iron Throne.
Although I have been in the Red Keep a few times already, I've never had the time or opportunity to actually look at the throne – the legendary throne of the seven kingdoms. Septon had told the story of how thousands of swords melted together by dragon fire formed the great chair, but words cannot describe the sheer magnitude that is this throne.
"And you will sit by his side," Septon continues, but my gaze is locked onto the magnificent structure.
"And one day, before too long, you will present your son to the court."
Well, that pulled my attention away from the throne. Sansa's son… Joffrey's son….
"All the lords of Westeros will gather here to see the little prince," Septon says with a triumphant smile. No doubt imagining the sight in her mind as a beautiful celebration with drink and merry making. In my mind however, I see Joffrey blatantly ignoring his child and wife like he has been doing since our arrival.
"What if I have a girl," Sansa's voice pierces through the air like a sliver of ice.
"Gods be good! You'll have boys and girls, and plenty of them," Septon quickly replies.
I think I vomit a little in my mouth at the thought.
"What if I only have girls," Sansa retaliates, her eyes fixed on the iron throne.
"I wouldn't worry about that," Septon replies.
"Jane Pools mother had five children," Sansa says finally turning away from the throne and towards her Septon. "All of them girls."
Now I understand. Sansa isn't worried about knowing which lord did what, or what knight slayed who, she isn't concerned with her duties as a queen. She's concerned with her duties solely as a wife.
"Yes," the elderly woman says. "But it's highly unlikely."
"What if," Sansa questions.
"Well," Septon sighs. "If you only had girls, I suppose the throne would pass to prince Joffrey's little brother."
"Then everyone would hate me."
"Nobody could ever hate you," I finally speak up and stand before Sansa. I drop my hands on her shoulders and force her to look me in the eyes and away from the iron prison of a throne.
"Joffrey does!"
To this I don't know what to say. As the Septon cries out how ridiculous of an idea that is Sansa keeps staring intently at me awaiting my response. I have none, for if I say what truly is flying around inside my head it would break her heart. I have spoken with Joffrey on multiple occasions, both in and out of the palace. None of them being pleasant occasions, none regarding Sansa. Just from the few things I've seen I know that this marriage was not an idea of his and he is completely indifferent to it. He does not care for Sansa. I don't think he cares for anyone other than himself.
The absence of the Septon's voice draws my attention onto the old womans form and my hands drop to my sides. Out of the corner of my eye Sansa is still intently staring at me.
"Why would you say such a thing?" the Septon questions the girl but she gives no response. The old woman looks at me and then I suppose the connection finally clicked into her head. "That business with the wolves? Sansa, I've told you a hundred times…" she cries, and just the mention of Lady drags Sansa's attention off my face and back onto her Septons.
"Please, shut up about it!" the young girl bellows so that her voice echos throughout the throne room. Then pushes past me and her Septon towards the exit.
"Do you remember your lessons?" the Septon calls out forcing Sansa to stop and turn around.
For every room we've entered the Septon would give Sansa a series of question to test her knowledge on a different era of history. Here she asked things such as: who forged the iron throne and the Red Keep? Without hesitation Sansa responded to each question, until she cut off the Septon and asked a question of her own. A question that I have never been given an answer too for it is hardly discussed in the North due to the painful ache of its memory.
"My grandfather and uncle were murdered here weren't they?"
The death of Ned's father and brother. I remember the first time I was told the story. Bran had mentioned it offhandedly to me one day when we were in the crypts and we passed a sculpture of a young woman: Lyanna Stark. Bran told me the overlying story of what happened; the kidnapping, the attempted rescue… the flames. Their fate was too cruel to even contemplate.
"They were killed on the orders of king Areas, yes," the Septon replies.
"The Mad King?" I question more to myself than to the Septon, but she responds none the less.
"Yes," Septon's tone is cold and flat. "Commonly known as the Mad King."
"Why were they killed?" Sansa asks and the image of the sculpted Northern Lady in the crypts of Winterfell dances around in my mind.
"You should speak to your father about these matters."
"I don't want to speak to my father. Ever!"
"Sansa," I interject before the Septon can speak. "You will find it in your heart to forgive your father. What happened to Lady was not his fault."
"No I won't," she replies coldly before turning and exiting the Red Keep, her heels thundering all the way down the hall.
"That girl has a lot to learn," Septon sighs beside me.
"I know."
"That is all for her lessons today it would seem," Septon says lifting her skirts and making her way out after Sansa. "You may spend the remainder of the day doing what you wish Eliza. Though I do request you attend the joust this evening. It is in the honor of Lord Stark so you must attend."
"Lord Stark!"
"Eliza," Ned turns around, the weight of a large book causing him to lean towards his left. "I thought you were accompanying Sansa to her lessons?"
"I was," I say coming to a stop at his side. "They have already ended. She is not in the best mood for lessons today."
Ned purses his lips and sighs. "I see," he says, his eyes falling down to the floor.
"What is that?" I ask, looking to breach the silence of our conversation, pointing at the book nestled under his arm.
"Ah, this," Ned pulls the thick, dusty book out and passes it to me. I take it in my hands and flip open the cover. I'm greeted by swirling letters and the house sigil of a bear: The Mormonts. I flip to the next page where a fish is leaping; Tully's. Lady Catelyn's birth-house. I flip through more and see many other familiar sigils, including the direwolf.
"The records of the houses," Ned says what I have already assumed.
"Why do you have this?" I ask, looking up to Ned and closing the book.
"Jon Arryn was reading this before he died."
"So you thing this may help you discover why he…" I trail off before the word 'murder' leaves my mouth. There are Lannister spies everywhere, I have no doubt of it.
"Yes," Ned nods. "I believe it will."
"If there is anything I can do, please say so."
"Thank you Eliza," Ned smiles and takes the book back.
We turn and begin making our way up the steps towards our rooms when we come across an interesting sight. Arya is on the steps, standing on one foot with her arms flailed out at her sides. She's staring straight ahead and at first I don't think she realizes we're here, but then she speaks.
"Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours."
I chuckle remembering doing the same thing myself, long ago.
"It's a hard fall down these steps," Ned says, and I can detect the concern in the back of his throat.
"Syrio says every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better," she replies without hesitation. Her training has only been going on for a short time and she's already reciting the lessons. I'm impressed, but not surprised.
She drops her foot and finally looks at her father and I. "Tomorrow I'm going to be chasing cats."
"Cat's?" Ned says questioningly and looks at my slyly from the corner of his eye. I shrug my shoulders ever so slightly and wink at him. His confused expression remains on his face until it clicks; "Syrio says?" he says with a smile.
"Swordsmen should study cats. They're as quiet as shadows and as light as feathers. You have to be quick to catch them."
"He's right about that," I say. I recall the first time I myself went chasing after this grey-furred feline. No matter how hard I tried she just kept slipping through my fingers like smoke.
Arya smiles weakly at me. After discovering my involvement in bringing her beloved Syrio here she's begun warming up to me. I'm glad.
"Shall we?" Ned asks motioning towards the door. I nod and we both begin our way into Ned's study when Arya calls out to us.
"Now that Bran's awake will he come live with us?"
Ned and I stop and turn back around to face her. Ned's posture shifts just enough for me to see the uncomfortableness he is feeling in this situation. Arya knows that Bran is awake, however Ned had decided against sharing the details of his injury's with her and Sansa.
"Well," Ned mumbles. "He needs to get his strength back first."
"He wants to be a kings guard," Arya's voice sounds pained. "He can't be one now can he?"
Ned's head quickly spins back around to face me. I mouth a silent apology.
The only reason I told her was because she knew that there was something else and she threated to search through Lord Stark's office until she found the letter. Knowing that there were secrets not for her eyes hidden in Ned's rooms, and that Bran his her little brother, I took it upon myself to share the truth with her.
Ned sighs but nod's, accepting my apology and knowing it was the right thing to have done even without knowing his daughters hidden agenda.
He turns back to his young daughter and answers her question: "No."
Arya drops down to the steps and Ned sits beside her. I stride over to the wall and lean up against the warm, sun covered brick.
"He could be lord of the holdfast," Ned continues. "Sit on the king's council. He might raise castles, like Brandon the Builder. "
"Can I be lord of the holdfast?" Arya questions.
Ned chuckles and wrapps his arm around his daughters shoulders. He kisses the top of her head and says, "You will marry a high lord and rule his castle. Your sons shall be knights and princes and lords."
With each word that escapes Ned's lips Arya's smile falls and my brow furrows.
"No," Arya decrees looking up at her fathers proud, smiling face. "That's not me."
She stands back up and resumes her one footed position. Averting the eyes of her father and myself. Ned turns to me questioningly and I just shake my head and enter Ned's office before he has even risen off the steps.
I stand in front of his desk and wait for him to enter. The door crashes closed behind me and Ned drops the large book on his desk with a loud crack like thunder.
He sits down and drops his chin on steapled fingers. I place my hands on my hips and glare down at him.
"What?" he finally cries, throwing his hands up in the air.
I give him my best 'did you really just ask me that' look.
"What do you expect me to do? Lie to her! Tell her that she can become lord of the holdfast when she can't?"
"Maybe not lord of the holdfast but you just crushed every dream she had by telling her that the only thing she can do is marry a lord of your choosing and bear his children."
"I did not say that!"
"You might as well have! You just gave her the hope that she can have her own say in her life by letting her train with Syrio! Now you just crushed all of that!"
"Just because she is training doesn't mean I'm going to let her go off and become a knight."
"Why not?"
"Because that isn't proper for a highborn lady!"
"Well did you ever stop to think that maybe she isn't a lady? That maybe she's like me?"
"You are a lady Eliza! You are my ward! My future daughter-in-law and ruler of the North! Stop pretending that you aren't!"
His words choke me. My expression has shifted form hard and frustrated to soft and unbelieving. Ned is glaring down at me but even his own words have silenced him.
"Eliza…" he finally mumbles after a few moments silence.
"No," I raise my hand up to stop him from saying more. "I am who I am and not even you Ned can tell me otherwise."
I turn around and open the door. I don't hear even the slightest noise as I close the door behind me. I lean my back up against the wood and raise my eyes to the ceiling and sigh.
"Are you okay?"
Damn. I completely forgot Arya was outside. She must have heard everything.
"Yes," I say to the young girl that reminds me so much of myself when I was younger. "Please, keep practicing Arya. You are doing very well."
I start making my way down the hall only to hear Arya call out my name again. I turn back around to see the first smile on her face since Mica died.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."