AN: So not a one-off it turns out. I make no promises about finishing this story to the end. I still don't fully know where I'm going with this.

Their father was a busy man. They couldn't just barge into their office whenever they felt like it. Well, they could but Sansa wanted to make the best impression possible. That, and one did not simply interrupt a man that was doing important work.

So, they simply peaked inside and begged an audience after Lord Stark finished his discussing whatever with the castle steward.

Eddard simply smiled and rolled his eyes, well used to Sansa's idiosyncrasies. She was always so formal, even to him.

Sansa simply waited patiently in the hall, observing her little sister. Arya had been eager at first; running almost ahead of Sansa, but now the waiting was draining her enthusiasm. Leaving only nervousness.

"You really think he'll agree?"

"To let you train with the boys? I don't know," Sansa said honestly.

"What if he doesn't?" Arya asked in a small voice.

"Would that make you give up?" Sansa asked, and after a moment, Arya shook her head. "Then you'll just have to practice yourself. Ask Jon or someone else to help you. Go against our father's wishes. That might even be likely. But there is no harm in simply asking father."

The idea seemed to scare her, but not discourage her. Arya was incredibly young, but she already had some backbone. At that moment, Sansa was proud of her. As much of a failure as Arya was right now, not all of it was her fault. Sansa fully agreed that Arya should be allowed to pick her career.

In a moment of introspection, Sansa wondered if she herself would join Arya in the practice yard if given the choice. Sansa wasn't all that fond of the 'lady' career either. But she also didn't want to be a soldier, however good Sansa knew she could be at it. She hadn't wanted that in the last world either. In the military, her every advancement was with the ultimate goal of a safe position in high command. That Tanya hadn't lived past her teenage years should tell you how well that ended.

So no, Arya was welcome to a life of violence if she wanted it. And Sansa knew she was a terrible sister for encouraging it, knowing full well what it was like. 'Still better than her being useless,' Sansa thought. 'Besides, this might aid in another one of my plans.'

Vayon Poole, the steward, exited father's study and gave them a friendly smile as he left.

It was time. Sansa went in and gave her lord father a curtsey and smile. Arya was normally anything but formal, but right now she tried to imitate her sister.

Their lord father, right now, was smiling at them. Sansa knew that Eddard Stark had two faces. The face of the Lord, and the face of their father. Right now, it was obviously the latter. The child in Sansa was thrilled. The much more valuable rational side of her just knew that meant he wasn't taking them seriously yet.

"I want to practice at swords with Jon and the others," Arya said before Sansa had the opportunity. The older girl grimaced; she would have put it much more delicately.

Eddard Stark smiled indulgently. "If you can get your mother's permission," he said. That, Sansa knew, was a very clever way of saying 'no'.

"I'm afraid it's not so simply father," Sansa said, and began to recount the events of today. Starting from Arya messing up her stitching, to Sansa's teasing – which she was of course very sorry for. To Arya seeking shelter in the godswood and promise she had made in the sight of their gods.

"A promise made by a child that doesn't understand the full magnitude of it. I wouldn't hold you to that, and neither would the gods," Eddard said. Sansa hadn't given the man enough credit. She had forgotten he was raised in the Vale, the South, and so might not be as superstitious as some other Northerners.

"You may not take it seriously. The gods may or may not. But Arya certainly does," Sansa said, looking to Arya who nodded vigorously. "I've never seen her feel this strongly about anything. Please, just give her a chance. I beg you."

Their father didn't answer immediately, which Sansa took as a good sign. "Maybe what Arya feels so strongly about, is not attending her lessons. And this is just a convenient excuse to avoid them."

"It's more than that," Sansa said.

"Is it?" their father addressed Arya. "I know you've been struggling. But that's no reason to give up."

"I don't want to just be lady. I want to be knight."

Eddard Stark again looked thoughtful. He was no longer smiling and had adorned his 'Lord's face'. Good.

As for Eddard, he couldn't help but think of another Stark who didn't want to be just a lady and choose her own fate. If they had been more supportive of her, then she might have trusted them in turn. And so much might have been avoided. . .

"You will keep going to Septa Mordane's lessons," he said. Arya looked dismayed. "And she will continue to teach you your numbers and histories. Whenever something else comes up, you will be allowed to study under sir Rodrik. Whether this arrangement endures will depend on his assessment." After he finishes speaking, Arya's face briefly looked prettier than Sansa's.

When the two girls left, Eddard Stark grimaced, knowing he would now have to break this news to his wife.

She did not take it well, as expected.

"I will tell Rodrick not to take it easy on her. Once she realizes it's not all just fun and games, maybe she'll return to her lessons." And that appeased his wife, for short time.

Yet, that didn't happen. Rodrick had been informed that the purpose behind this endeavor was to learn how important this was to Arya, and to discourage her if possible. After every day of practice, she received new bruises and scratches, some of which might even scar. If Arya's goal had been to find a more 'fun' activity, over her lesson, she wasn't getting it. Every time, her mother would try to persuade her to rejoin her sister with the Septa. Couldn't she see that she was just hurting herself? Didn't she understand how much it hurt her mother to see her in pain?

After the second week, Sir Rodrick couldn't bear it anymore and added his voice to it, "I still think you're making a mistake, girl. But if you are set on this, then understand this. In a fight, the one who is stronger and faster will win more often than not. Skill and technique matter, but the advantage that the strong have over the weak will never go away. You're a girl and your sex is physically weaker. There are exceptions, but you aren't one of them. You'll have to be twice as skilled to match your male counterparts, and trice if you seek to win. Please, for the sake of all who love you, give up on this foolishness. We can't bear to see you hurt."

Arya, having been successfully guilt tripped, did try to once again join Sansa. But after a week, again decided that that wasn't for her, and requested to resume her training.

Soon after, it seemed that Rodrick had given up on discouraging her, and instead simply did his best to teach her. Even giving her more attention than the boys, as she'd need more help.

"It doesn't seem like she'll stop Ned," Catelyn said one day, standing on a balcony overlooking the yard with her husband. "You said this was meant to discourage her."

"It was," Ned said, smiling. "She's more stubborn than any of us gave her credit for."

Catelyn didn't seem amused. "Honestly, Ned. What are you hoping will come of this? Do you see her becoming our next master-at-arms?"

"I don't know," Ned said honestly. "But what I do know is that I've never seen Arya work so hard at anything before. She's almost matching Sansa in diligence."

"But what of the future? Men are prideful creatures." Catelyn said, pausing and watching her husband carefully to make sure he didn't take offence. He didn't. "What man will want a wife that can beat him with a sword? He'd be humiliated. Men dream of innocents maidens that they can protect and look after."

"Not all men. And girls picking up a weapon isn't as uncommon as you think. Some of our norther most bannerman, like the Mormonts, are famous for it."

"House Mormont also happens to be one the poorest houses in the North, and their woman often end up as old spinsters or married to sworn swords. And others are often in danger from Wildlings," Catelyn retorted. "Arya deserves better than that."

"She deserves to be happy," Ned said.

"Arya is a child and is too young to decide what her whole life should be like; what would make her happy. I know I was, at that age. Yet if you stop her lessons with the Septa, some doors will be closed for good."

"She will continue to learn the essentials. As I said, not everyone wants the same kind of wife. I know you intended for our daughters to marry South, but Arya has too much of the North in her. Even young as she is, that much is obvious to me."

Catelyn didn't respond immediately, and when she did, it was with grimace that indicated she knew he wouldn't budge on this topic. "I don't care what you say Ned. I don't want to see my little girl on a battlefield. Not now. Not ten or even twenty years from now."

"Neither do I, and she won't," he promised, and that seemed to appease her, but it looked like she still had more to say.

"Sansa came to see me some days ago, bringing up a rather. . . interesting suggestion."

"Oh?"

"First, she came to me with a list of possible future candidates for her hand in marriage."

Ned held back a chuckle. He could very well see Sansa do something like that. She and Arya really couldn't be any more different if they tried. "Well, she'll have to wait a few more years before I'll entertain any thoughts of a betrothal."

"In order to get a better feel for her 'opportunities' as she called it, she asked me to ask you to foster her in the South."

That did surprise him. More so that Catelyn apparently seemed to support the idea. Girls were fostered less often than boys, but it did happen.

"You'd be fine with being separated from Sansa?"

Catelyn lowered her eyes. "Sansa has never allowed me to be a mother to her. She's unlikely to start now."

Sansa had never been a child. Had never really needed a father or a mother. Something Ned knew had hurt his wife deeply. And to be honest, it occasionally bothered him as well.

"And where do you think Sansa should go?"

Catelyn looked at him in a way that indicate he should already know the answer. "This was Sansa's idea. Where else would she want to go?"

Ned turned up his nose as if he could smell the city from half a world away. "King's Landing. Of course." Ned shook his head. "Sansa is. . . special. But I don't think even she's ready to face that place alone."

"She wouldn't be alone," Catelyn said. "John Arryn is there, as is my sister Lysa. They'll take care of her. And of course, the Septa," Ned still seemed dubious. "Sansa will learn more there, then she will here."

"Maybe there are things there that I don't want her to learn."

"You can't stop her Ned. Just like Arya has too much of the North in her. So too does Sansa have too much of the South. I know she feels stifled here. Let her stretch out her wings for a bit."

For a moment, Eddard wondered if this was why Sansa had pushed Arya in this direction. So that when he allowed one daughter to truly be herself, it would then make it easier for Sansa to press for something similar for herself in the opposite direction.

Would even Sansa be that cunning or manipulative? That it was even a question was telling. Sansa sometimes acted more like a stereotypical Lannister than a Stark, or even a Tully. It was the single most uncharitable thing Eddard Stark had ever thought about any of his children.

In the end it was the memory of John Arryn that convinced him. The man had taught him honour and turned him into the man he was now. Maybe Sansa would experience something similar? And if Sansa made a good impression on the royal family – not just Robbert but the next generation, that could only be good for his family.

"So be it. I'll allow Sansa to go south, and in return, I don't want to hear another word about Arya's arms training."

Catelyn pursed her lips but said, "agreed. With your permission, I'd like to travel with Sansa. Just to make sure she's settled in. And it will be nice to see my sister again."

There were some other details to work out. Ned still wanted Sansa to spend at least a few months in Wenterfell each year. His eldest daughters sometimes already felt like a stranger to him; he didn't need that to worsen.

Ravens were sent and messages exchanged. Agreements were made. Sansa would join John Arryn household close the Tower of The Hand, under the care of her aunt Lysa. Besides continuing her lessons with Septa Mordane, Sansa would become one of princess Myrcella's ladies in waiting. Which considering their age, boiled down to being her playmate.

Considering, that a lady in waiting was usual paired to a woman of higher status, and Sansa was already the daughter of a Lord Paramount, there really had been only two options. Princess Marcella, or Queen Cersei. Between the two of them, Ned would prefer Robert's daughter over the Lannister queen. Sansa claimed she'd have preferred the queen herself, but Ned wouldn't be swayed.

Sansa, Catelyn, Septra Mordane, and a small escort would follow the White Knife to White Harbour and take a ship from there. Again, Sansa said she'd have prefer to travel by land, so as to meet more people and see more of the world, but again she went ignored.

Since Sansa was trying to be perfect in the eyes of society. There was only so much she could object before it became unseemly. So, by sea they went.

Sansa hadn't been idle during the waiting. With Catelyn's help, they made a gown for her that could rival any fashion in the South for quality. Its shape was in classical Southern fashion, but the colours scheme was a nod to her house and origin. The sigil of house Stark was a grey wolf running over an ice white field. White, with grey accents. Her small dress was the reverse. Grey, with white wolves seemingly running down from her shoulders down towards the bottom of her dress. The project took several weeks to complete and was only finished during the long sea voyage.

"The colours might seem dull compared to what most other ladies will be wearing, but it will also accentuate the bright colours of your hair," Catelyn told her.

"And that I helped make it will give me something to talk about," Sansa said, smirking briefly before schooling her features into a gentler smile.

"You're trying so hard," Catelyn said softly. "I hope you'll at least be able to make a few friends where you can just be yourself."

'Any child that would be okay with the real me shows an alarming lack of good sense,' Sansa thought. "I hope so too mother."

It wouldn't be long before they were expecting to see King's Landing, so they made it to above decks. Sansa took a moment to enjoy the warm winds against her skin. This fostering would be worth it if only because of the weather. Starks were supposed to be resistant to the cold, but that was doubtlessly just some nonsense idea that allowed them to feel superior to others.

Eventually, Sansa frowned and turned up her nose. "Is some of our food going bad somewhere?"

One of the Sailors laughed. "That's not us little lady, but the city. With the wind blowing in this direction, you'll smell King's Landing before you see it."

Sansa paid more attention to the increasing smell as they got closer, and the city came into view. 'Somebody needs to be fired for this,' she thought darkly. Sadly, the ones responsible were likely already dead for centuries.

King's Landing was definitely larger than any city she'd ever seen in the North, spanning several miles. Their ship angled its way into the Blackwater Rush and into the Port which was just outside the city walls.

"There she is," Catelyn said, pointing and giving a radiant smile. It was infectious, and Sansa didn't need to fake her own grin.

Indeed, a large group had assembled to greet them. Lysa Arryn was easily recognizable from her resemblance to her mother. She was also carrying a small child which had to be her nephew. The old man beside her was probably John Arryn, arguably the most powerful man in Westeros right now if you didn't count the king.

Speaking of the King, he was also here, easily recognizable by his crown, and the knights with white cloaks that surrounded him.

This made Sansa smile even more. It was nice to be of such an important well-connected family to warrant such a welcome.

Catelyn made her way off the boat as fast as decorum allowed, and she clearly would have hugged her sister if she hadn't been holding a three-year-old kid, though he looked too small for that age.

Sansa recalled that her aunt had had suffered several miscarriages and at least one still-births. If you compared that to her own mother, who already had four children and was barely thirty years old, in the eyes of this medieval society, her mother was the superior woman. Also, in Sansa's completely objective opinion, Catelyn was also more beautiful, having mostly maintained her figure, despite carrying several children to term. Whereas Lysa was a bit wider. There were other things too. Lysa looked older, despite being two years younger.

Despite that unflattering assessment by Sansa, Lysa smiled broadly and briefly handed her son to John Arryn so she could embrace her sister. When they separated, she did quickly snatch him back before saying, "It's been way too long Catelyn."

Sansa waited patiently before someone deigned to acknowledge her.

"So, this is your special wonder girl," Lysa said, after the initial reunion was done.

Sansa curtsied. "Pleased to meet you aunt Lysa."

"Yes. Always polite. That's what I've heard. It will serve you well here. I'll do my best to look after you, but my son needs a lot of attention."

"I'll try not to be a bother," Sansa said with wide, intentionally innocent looking eyes.

"Don't worry Lysa. Sansa may not look it, but she's fiercely independent. Coming here was her idea even."

"Oh? You didn't mention that part in your letter," John Arryn spoke up for the first time since the initial greetings. "Usually, children want nothing more than to stay at home. I do hope you don't get homesick Sansa."

"I'll manage," Sansa said with a wry smile.

"Petyr?" Catelyn spoke the name like she hadn't expected its owner to be here.

From the back of the group, a short man with a boyish look to him stepped forward. "I had wondered if you'd still recognise me. I'm here at Lord Arryn's request to take the position of Master of Coin."

"I recommended him," Lysa said proudly.

"And I am grateful, believe me," Petry said, giving her a nod before turning back to Catelyn. "It's a demanding job, but very rewarding." Sansa thought she saw his lips twitch upward at that last word. It was such a small thing; she could have imagined it. "I'm usually very busy these days, but I'll also make sure Sansa doesn't get into any more trouble than she can get out off."

Sansa gave her mother a questioning look and she explained. "This is Petry Baelish. We grew up together and was like a brother to me, and at your age he was almost as clever as you are now." Despite the glowing words, Sansa noticed that there was a hint of wariness in her mother's voice.

"You can always come to him if you're ever in trouble." Lysa said to Sansa before smiling at Catelyn. "We did, when we were younger."

"Yes," was all Catelyn said to that.

Petyr grinned and looked like he was about to say something, but the King wouldn't be ignored any longer and slapped him on the back. It looked like a friendly gesture, but the king was large and strong, and Petyr wasn't and nearly fell flat on his face. "Talk circles around them later, Littlefinger," he said and approached Catelyn with a big grin. "How is Ned?"

It took several more minutes before they headed to the city. The king's only words for Sansa were that she didn't look much like a Stark. Her mother's expression had tightened at that, but by King Robert's smile, Sansa could tell he hadn't meant any insult. King Robert just seemed to say what's on his mind and didn't give much thought for propriety. 'Must be nice to be so powerful you could get away with that,' Sansa thought, trying to not let any of the envy show on her face. One day, she hoped to be that secure in her position.

The King's brothers were also there. The oldest one, Stannis, was courteous but with a frown that seemed permanently carved into his face, while the younger, Renly, greeted them with an easy smile.

Beyond those mentioned, the Queen's family and children hadn't come to greet them. The exception being what she assumed was Sir Jaime who was there in his capacity as Kingsguard and looked bored. Sansa didn't know what to make of that. She knew that her father had a low opinion of the Lannisters, but was the feeling mutual? Her job would be much harder if it were.

Her job wasn't just planning out her own future. It was presenting her house in a positive light to all the powers that be.

When they reached the Red Keep everyone except the Arryn contingent went their separate ways. Sansa would no doubt see more of them in the coming years, possibly even later in the day, but for now, Sansa and Catelyn would be unpacking in the living chambers close to the Tower of The Hand.

On the way, Sansa privately asked her mother what was up with her and Petyr.

"Your aunt didn't lie. We were close. But he and I didn't part on the best of circumstances." And she told her the full story. How Petyr Baelish used to be infatuated with her. He was the son of a minor lord and way too lowly for a Tully. When Catelyn was promised to Brandon Stark, Petyr challenged him to a duel and was soundly defeated. According to Catelyn, the only reason Brandon didn't kill him was because she asked him not to.

"I made an effort to avoid Petyr after that, made very easy by my father sending him away shortly afterwards. He needed to get over me. I haven't seen him in over a decade. He tried to write me, but I never wrote back."

"Why not?"

Catelyn grimaced. Part of it was as she said. Petyr needed to get over her. But even after she had married Eddard and there was a whole country between them, she had refused all contact. She didn't want anyone, especially her husband, to think that she might have any lingering affection for a man who once vied for her hand.

"It would be unseemly," Catelyn said. "A woman sometimes needs to make certain sacrifices to make sure her marriage is a successful one."

"So. . . did you ever feel anything for this Petyr?" Sansa couldn't help but ask.

"No. Thank the gods."

Kingslanding as a whole might be a dump, but the Red Keep at least seemed to have all the luxuries and riches you would expect from the city that received taxes from seven kingdoms. The Castle was smaller than Winterfell, true, but much more finely decorated and furnished. Sansa and Catelyn shared a room with Lysa and Robin, or Sweetrobin as most referred too him as. A large extra bed had already been moved there for both Sansa and her mother. When Sansa touched it, it felt softer than her bed back at Winterfell. Some in the North bragged that they didn't need fine luxuries to get by. To Sansa, that just sounded like trying to be proud of your poverty. Madness.

Sansa spend over an hour helping to unpack and familiarizing herself with her new room. After that, she spends another hour entertaining her nephew with songs and stories. Every time she made him laugh, she could feel her aunt's opinions of her rising.

After that, it was time to dine with and meet the royal family and the young princess she was supposed to attach herself to.

AN:
Honestly, I feel guilty for making Catelyn object to Arya's arms training. Every fanfic does it, yet there is very little to indicate she would react like that in the books. Arya and Catelyn share very little scenes together. And considering Catelyn's behavior around Dacey Mormont and Bienne of Tarth, she is not fundamentally opposed to female warriors. In fact, when men question Dacey's place at Rob's side as a bodyguard, it is Catelyn who politely tells all the sexists to shove it. But the sexist nature of this setting is such a big part of Westeros, we all want to acknowledge it in our fanfics. And we all like Ned, so Catelyn becomes the voice of sexist gender-roles. Her and Sansa. I am not saying Catelyn is some super progressive woman because she's not, but I think she'd be totally fine with Arya learning some self-defense.