This is one of those chapters that don't need to change besides fixing some typos. It was done perfectly.
The feast was a wonderous success, Sansa watched everyone in amazement and horror. Hundreds of people were crammed into their Great Hall, wine and beer and food stuffed into mouths, whores and serving wenches in countless laps. The King, much to her dismay, was buried face first into a serving women's breasts. The knowledge that she would be performing for such a crowd was almost too much. She shook, knowing and reviewing how she had tightened the strings of her High Harp, ensuring that every note would hit exactally where she wanted it to, where she needed it to.
Her performance would be perfect. It had to be, to impress Prince Jeoffery, to show her father that she was worthy of being the Queen.
She waited, for what felt like hours, sitting next to Jeyne Poole, barely eating and drinking. Her stomach ached with fear, twisted in and upon knots. The smoke filled air only added to the canopy of noise. She prayed to the Mother that they would hear, and like, her performance.
'I need a distraction...' Taking several deep breathes, Sansa turned and focused on Joffery, her soon to be Husband. To her, he was beautiful. Tall, blonde with the most amazing green eye. She giggled turning to share the moment with Jenye for a moment... and then she turned to the Queen and her spirits lifted once again. A tall stoic beauty, with thin eyebrows and golden hair wrapped into elegant braided buns on either side, she was everything Sansa wanted to be.
The urge was far too great to ignore, and without a thought she stood and marched over the to queen as gracefully as she could.
The queen smiled at her. "Hello, Little dove... but you are a beauty. How old are you?"
"Thirteen your grace." her face ached from the smile, and she could barely breathe she was far too excited.
The Queen turned her head looking at her, examining her and Sansa strived to be worthy of whatever she was searching for. " Your tall, still growing?"
"I think so, your grace."
"And have you bled yet?"
The world may have gone silent, for all Sansa could hear was the blood in her ears and the shame in her heart. The embarrassment of the inappropriate words, the crassness of them. She turned to her mother, who seemed just as uncomfortable. "No your grace." She shook her head, and tried to hide the shame within.
"And your dress, did you make it?" The pride returned, Sansa nodded with a beautiful smile. "Such a talent, you must make something for me."
"Hopefully something less gold and red, Mother." The three ladies turned to see a limping Prince Arryn, carrying a small green case in one hand. He was no longer wearing his previous black garb, instead garbed in a near velvet suit, with black underneath. The lapels were longer then normal, and within the were delicate lions and stags stitched within with gold silk. It was a beautiful outfit, one Sansa knew she would struggle to make on her own. "I cannot remember the last time you wore anything other then gold or red."
His voice was softer then Joeffery's but deeper and richer carrying notes of husk within, much like a smoker or blacksmith would. It was a warm sound, one she enjoyed though she realized it resembled King Roberts just a little bit more then she would have liked. There was something grizzly about it, like Robert's less formal and more... intense. It was a startling contrast.
The Queen smiled, and Sansa realized that if only slightly the Queen resembled her Mother. She couldn't figure out why. "I look best in my House colors, red and gold. As do you, though you seem determined to wear dark colors at nearly every event." She smiled brightly, then turned to the case in his hands. " What is that?"
"That is a surprise mother, my gift to Lord Stark and my dear brother. One Lady Caitlyn convinced me I should share. I hope you enjoy." He turned to Sansa, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly. "Hello, my soon to be sister. I hear that you and I are sharing this gift."
Blinking in shock, Sansa turned towards her mother who was smiling radiantly. Cersei simply seemed confused. "What gift?"
Her Lady Mother placed a soft hand on Cersei's arm. " You will see my lady, and I hope you are as proud as I am." Standing, her mother gestured to the band, who stopped playing. In an instant the room was filled with confused and annoyed drunken mutters. Then with more power then Sansa realized her mother hand, she spoke. "May I have everyone's attention?" Her mother's voice echoed loudly across the Great Hall, louder even then the countless men and women all but bellowing as they enjoyed themselves. They all turned towards her, and it was clear to anyone with an eye that her mother was bloated with pride. "Prince Arryn and my own Daughter, in honor of My Lord Husband's becoming the Hand of the King, have elected to demonstrate their own skills and perform for us all. My Daughter on the High Harp and my Prince Arryn on the Violin."
Hushed whispered did little to abate the nervousness of Sansa as she marched over to where the band had played, where her Harp now sit, perfectly tuned and beautiful. She sat on the stool next to it, closing her eyes as terror struck her.
Then she heard Arryn's voice, sweet and soft and in it she found strength. " What song as you playing? I follow your lead, sweet sister."
She could not help the smile at those words confirmed her, reminding of the dream that lay in hands reach of her. She would be queen... she would Marry the First born Prince.
With a stronger voice then she realized she had, her voice carried across the Great hall where many people looked at her, including a seemingly interested Joeffery and even the King. "In honor of my Father and the King, I will be playing the Ode to Winter, our First Kneel. A song born of the unity between the Once Great Northern Kingdom and the Six kingdoms."
Unable to speak any further, she turned to her Harp and took one last breathe before her hands found their place.
'''
Cersei frowned, even as gorgeous music lilted their ways into the air. "Your daughter has a gift, a seamstress and a musician. What can she not do?" Her son, sweet and quiet Arryn had yet to begin playing. Instead she stared at Sansa, placing his violin against his throat, waiting for some cue to begin. "How did you know of his talent?" She tried to hide her doubt, doubt that he could really play the violin with any skill, doubt that the boy she barely knew had secrets that she never knew of.
Before Caitlyn ever began to speak, jealousy erupted from Cersei's heart and it took all she had to not to strike at the women who had someone how knew more about her enigmatic son then she currently did. A reminder of failure, of fear that came with the knowledge that her son would perish before she could really get to know him.
"He told me when I lead him to his room, he wanted to ensure that his instrument was in perfect shape. It was beautiful and it gave me a wonderful idea, one your son agreed to. "
Insolence barked bitterly against her throat, and Cersei wished more then anything to give into the feeling, to scold the wench before her.
Then her son began to play and all thought evaporated from her heart and mind. "Beautiful..." The words escaped her as deep rhythmic sounds echoed across the Great Dinning Hall, a different tone then the one the Stark girl was playing though it matched it perfectly in tone shifting the dramatic but simple song into something akin to prayer. As if the gods themselves were listening, deciding weather or not to bond the North and South.
When her son began to sing, a powerful and deep wailing sound, it only added to the music.
The prayer became mournful, a cry to those who had fallen in the wars preceeding and a promise to the Gods and those who were swearing oaths of fealty. The sounds of war and peace, the simple harp and the complex violin.
Cersei's heart hurt as the music ended, tears in her eyes as the crowd swelled with loud applause. Even her drunken bastard of a husband seemed moved by the performance, clapping loudly even with his arms wrapped around his current conquest though it may have been the wine. However her eyes were met Jaime's, her son's true father, who looked ready to cry as pride swelled him. She felt his pain, knowing how much he yearned to love and cherish their children with all he had. That look that he should be allowed to share with the world, reminding just who was their father.
A look her father never gave her or Jaime.
She had to look back at her son, smiling as he bowed along side Sansa, hand in hand. Both happy and red faced, both radiant in their beauty and youth.
She hated them for it, and yet she cherished every second of it.
Slowly, both children made their way back to the High table, stopping every few minutes to accept praise from one person or another. Even the normally stoic Septa's were eager to praise them both, which seemed to make her son especially happy though she could not figure out why. It took longer then she cared for, for the children to reach her and when they did her son spoke.
"Wasn't she amazing? I have never heard such excellent Harp playing."
Sansa, the little dove, turned bright red. "You honor me your Grace but you played the violin masterfully and sang. I have never heard that song before, did you make it?"
Her son actually blushed, his normal stoicism and exhaustion evaporating to show a taste of the innocence he clearly hid from the world. "Yes, I couldn't play much on the road here, so I started to write songs. I remember stories of how the North played such a heavy role in the War against the Mad King, it was an easy thing to create."
Pride and jealousy burned through Cersei. "Who taught you to play, my Love?"
The innocence evaporated, her heart ached at the genuine fear in his eyes. "I taught myself, Mother... two years ago when the fever hit me. Maester Pycelle said I would die, so everyone stayed away from me. I... I missed the music lessons, I used to listen when Myrcella was learning to play. So, I had a servant get me a violin and books on the subject. It took a lot of time, but whenever I was conscious I taught myself how to play. I find it soothing. The singing came when I was helping Myrcella learn, as a part of her lessons."
When he actually took a step back from her, almost shaking in fear, it became too much for Cersei and she reached forward, grabbing his hand. "You were incredible, you honored your House well." Pulling just a little, she kissed her son's temple softly.
"She's right, both of you did well." Caitlyn's soft, sweet voice interrupted the moment between Cersei and her son.
However, what hurt the most was the radiant smile that came from her at her words, as if they filled him with more joy then he could contain. "Thank you, my Lady... but if it pleases you both, I would depart for bed. I have used up too much of my energy." Reaching forward, her son kissed her cheek softly, doing the same for Lady Stark. Then, to her surprise, he embraced Sansa fully and kissed her cheek. "We must play together again. Goodnight, Sister."
''''
Shaking and terrified, Arryn all but sprinted from the Great Hall. People were looking at him, many praised him, but none held him up too long. For this he was grateful, if he believed in the Gods he would have thanked the Mother for this mercy. Eyes were on him, more eyes then he had ever seen. It was too much, especially with the weight of his Mother and Joff looking at him. He feared that his brother, having attention taken from him, would not be able to handle the jealousy.
'I need to hide my stuff... '
The glorious cold of Winterfell soothed his heated panic, and for a moment he decided to leaned against a wall, taking it in under the moonlight. It's radiance was muddled by the constantly cloud covered skies of the North, and yet it brought him a measure of peace.
"You did well, your Grace."
The voice was deeper then he expected, softer with an incredibly warm accent that sent a rush down his spine. He knew, without looking, that it was Robb Stark. Turning towards the young man only confirmed it.
Robb's face was showing just a shade of a beard, something Arryn appreciated. He always enjoyed facial hair, he knew that he was likely to get a decent beard growing himself if Tywin's Beard was any sign. On others however, like Robb, it was an unfortunately effective allure that he struggled to resist. Still, he knew he had to behave himself even if the North held no reservations around same sex couplings. Partially due to the presence of so many Southerners and their bias.
Partially because he was all but carrying Arya Stark over his shoulder.
The little girl smiled mischievously at him, clearly the picture of the cat that ate the canary.
"Thank you, I appreciate that." Unable to hide his own smirk, he asked the girl. " And just what did you do?"
Her laughter was warm and sweet, and he just knew Sansa was involved. "I hit Sansa with a spoonful of meat pie." Smug as only a vindictive child could be, She ignored Robb's sigh.
"I am sorry, Your Grace. She-"
"It's fine. I enjoy the joke. Pity I couldn't have seen it." He chuckled, reaching out to shake Arya's hand. " Pity you didn't hit my brother. He's an uptight little prick. Or even better, my father. I imagine he's too drunk to have even noticed it."
Both the Stark's laughed, and in that moment Arryn felt an all too familiar pain burn it's way into his heart. Not from illness or stress but from mourning. He wished, more then most things, that he could have forged such bonds with his family. Sure he enjoyed his Uncle Tyrion, respected his blood father and cared for his younger siblings ( even if he rarely had been allowed around them in the more distant past) but other then that he had no real connections.
It was a sad thing...
'Which is why I was so easily cajoled into performing by Lady Stark. I need to work on this, less Mother learns to use me like this... or worse, Varys or Baelish. If I am to implement my plans I will need to be iron in my convictions and not allow myself to be swayed.' Sighing just a little, he returned his full attention to the Starks.
"Not to be rude, but my illness renders me quite tired most days. I wish you both a good night and I hope neither of you wake up squirting from one end or the other."
Both Starks gave a startled snort as he left them, their laughter haunting his every aching step...he wished he truly had family like this... or friends close enough to call family like his father and Lord Stark.
Then he stopped, as an idea slammed into him with the force of a field of wildfire.
'They like me... they really do... and so did Lady Caitlyn. How foolish I am, this is how you allies. If I want my goals to come into fruition then I need friends, I cannot believe I never realized this before. How I believe any of my dreams would matter or become real without allies is beyond me. When I go home I must implement such practices... perhaps staring with Uncle Renly, he's my uncle so no one would question my talking to him. Truly this is a lesson one I will not ignore. Father is friends with Lord Stark and it is only through that bond that he has gained a loyal Hand now that Jon Arryn has died... but they will not live forever and really he is his only friend. Joff is incapable of making friends for any real length of time. When he becomes king, I will have to fight against him to get anything done... I really have been a fool... I just have to be clever... Sansa clearly liked me, and we seem to share interests... I guess I know where to start. She is going to be my Law Sister anyway, really she is my best place to start.'
Those words added a strength to his step, chasing away the fear he felt from previous eyes on him. A swarm of ideas swam in his head as he began his plot to gain the allies he sorely lacked.
'I really have to thank Lady Stark one day. If she hadn't accidently forced me out of shell, I would have never even considered doing this...I already ripped off my clothes and shown the world some of my true colors, might as well enjoy it.'
''''
"My Dear sweet sister, how are you this fine morning?" Arryn enjoyed the look of shock on the faces of the girls practing their needlework. The Septa actually gasped, hand over her heart. A single thread of hair fell from her frock, not that she noticed. Sansa and Myrcella both smiled at him, beautiful and sweet, where as Arya looked at him with boredom and a desire for freedom. He understood that look all too well.
"Your Grace." The Septa managed to squeak out, which he returned with a nod.
Practically tossing her work to the die, Myrcella rushed over to him, hugging him close around his waist. He enjoyed her warmth, burying a kiss into her head. Plot to gain allies or not, he always enjoyed seeing her beautiful face.
"Your here! I thought you would be too sick to see me today." She was almost crying and it broke his heart, he wished that he could see her more often.
Kneeling, he held her beautiful face and brushed away the tears. "I have been getting stronger and stronger, and I managed to squeeze in a few extra hours of sleep. I feel fantastic really." She looked at him, her green eyes understanding what he meant. She knew of his herbal secrets, having seen him smoking them more then once. "I should be able to play and sit with you more often. Now, what are we working on?"
With strength far greater then her size should have allowed, she led him to her seat and he plopped down next to her. Her hands pulled the design off of the floor, where she pointed out her design. " I am having trouble with this curve. The Stark Direwolf is harder then our Family crest."
Nodding, he pulled the design from her hand, running his finger across the curve she was talking about. "Hmm... how about I show you how to do it? You can copy me as best you can?" As his sister nodded, he pulled out a fresh bit of fabric and a set of needle and thread. "You want to keep the needle close to your hand, and take your time, small motions are best."
"You like needlework?" Arya's dry, bored look drew his attention from his work. She did not look impressed, actually she almost looked betrayed. " But your a boy?"
"Arya, that is not proper behavior. We do not speak to a prince like that." The septa's obnoxious voice, filled with righteous fury at the break in propriety, lashed out at the girl who seemed mostly unfazed.
'Perfect, a clear opportunity to gain her alliance... she may not matter much now but in the future she will command a house as a Lady, with ties to the Great Starks to boot.' With a shrug, he gestured to his sister. "I am sick often, and when I am not I am too weak to do much. Reading is my usual habit, but I do enjoy playing with my sister and brother. She practices on her own often so I decided to work with her. Besides, it is a useful skill to have. I have designed most of my own clothes, and even a few of my sisters."
"Singing, Violin and Sewing. Are you sure you aren't a girl?"
Sansa actually gasped, looking horrified. "Arya, you can't talk to the prince like that!"
"I don't really care what people think about things being for girls or boys. I have met a few female warriors that could beat my Uncle into the ground, most of them are from Dorne where the practice is rather common. I like art. Poetry, singing, violin or the High Harp, drawing, painting...but I also enjoy sword play and archery and horseback riding. I am actually quite good at both, no where near my Uncle I know but enough to honor my house or defend myself if the moment calls for it. Now, enough about me. It seems every conversation I have had over the last day has been about me. I am not that interesting, I promise. So, tell me, Arya, what do you want to do?"
He really was annoyed, it felt like everyone was trying to peel away his layers and poke at what they say. He knew why they were doing it, intrigue and the fact that the North lacked the Biases of the South that resulted in everyone ignoring him and his younger siblings. He shouldn't be so rude really... especially if he wanted allies. It was just so against his nature.
The girl actually recoiled, clearly not used to such a question. "Um, well, I want to-" Loud clangs and bellows, the sound of men being stupid. "Go on a hunt for one thing."
"I understand the feeling.' He smirked just a little, trying to hide the satisfaction at having found a perfect foothold to gain her liking. " Father has never allowed me on a hunt despite being a far cry better then Joeffery with a bow. Maybe I can talk to your Lord Father about having your trained in the basics of combat? He seems a kind man, and really if I remember correctly your Aunt Lyanna was also at least partially trained in combat. I plan on talking to him about a few things anyway."
This time, it was Arya that launched herself at him, and he enjoyed every second of it... even if he was tired of making a scene.
"Now, shall we continue with the lesson I so rudely interrupted? Arya, I know your not fond of needlework, but perhaps you can design your own crest? What you would want if you became a Knight or had your own house. The Baratheon House is actually the legacy of a bastard branch of the Targaryans you know."
Eyes wide and lit with passion, Arya nodded excitedly. "I knew that, Orys Baratheon was the Bastard Brother of Aegon the Conqueror!" A slight frown built over her tiny face. "But he didn't make a House Sigil, he took it from House Durrandon after he defeated Argilac the Arrogant."
"I know, but other families made their own House. Blackfyre did this, and so did a few others. We can make your Sigil, even if you would never use it. It would be an interesting exercise." Turning to his sister, he poked her nose. "This one is very creative, and she can help. Maybe Sansa can help us? I know Joff uses a combined sigil of both of our Houses. Maybe you can sew him one, one that I can draw for you? I am sure he would find such a gift lovely. It might endear him to you, Sansa."
The girl flushed a read that put her perfect hair to shame, but nodded eagerly. " I would love that."
"Wonderful, thankfully I brought my Pencils and notebook with me." Smiling, he pulled out the pad of paper from the bag he carried round his shoulder. "Lady Septa, would you like to help? I commandeered your lesson after all, rather rude of me I know. I do apologize for that."
His winning smile seemed to move the Septa, who smiled at him indulgently. "Not a problem, you even seemed to motivate Arya to sew. I never thought I'd see the day. I am happy to help, Your Grace... so long as you do know that your Sigil cannot be public knowledge nor can you call it a Sigil at all. Least others see you, or these girls as traitors."
Her words, their accuracy, hit him like cold water. Sansa actually gasped and he could all but sense Arya trying to say something smart. Thankfully he recovered quickly.
"A fair statement, but do not worry. I have no intentions of leaving my family and neither do these girls. It is simply an exercise in understanding the past, honoring the past of the Baratheon Household... and in fact all Households who have a Sigil. New Houses do arise, like House Baelish, which has the sign of the Mockingbird."
He shared a smile with the Septa, hiding the genuine fear building within him. He truly hadn't thought of that... he had been so focused on gaining the alliance of the girl, knowing no one would focus on truly making them their allies since they were more focused on their brothers, that he forgot to think about the consequences. He would have to do and be better then this...
If he wanted to serve his dream... he wanted to make his dream a reality to ensure that he was remembered truly and forever, he had to be careful...
He life and functional immortality depended on it.
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
I am really enjoying writing this. Arryn is fun and powerful in his own way, I enjoy his innocence getting in the way and him realizing that he has to make friends... that his reclusive personality is harmful only after meeting the open and loving Starks... a lesson that I think is helpful since he has little understanding of politics on a practical level...
This was going in a different direction earlier but was saved by the realization that the story was too focused on people asking about his skills. I needed a goal for him and a way for it to work, and so his desire to make allies ( he does understand that much of politics) was born.
I figured that it would be the opposite of Sansa, who learned to be quiet and listen from the cold politics of the South... that he would learn to be open and not always hide himself from the loving and wild North!
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.