I would have waited next week to publish this one, but I felt like giving you more of "A Rose and a Lion". The previous chapter was setting the situation for the future of the fic, but in this one, we see the story actually expand to more characters. Tyrion/Margaery remains the focus point of the fic, but we'll see them have an impact on many other people and interact with them from now on. Let's start with Arya.
ARYA I
"Good, good, pivot. Don't forget to pivot."
She leaned forward to launch a decisive attack, only to find nothing. He stood aside and she felt a branch hitting her back, though not hard. She turned to see Jon smiling and laughing at her.
"I told you. Don't rush on your opponent. It will only leave you vulnerable. Now, try again, without rush."
Arya took the branch with her two hands. She imagined it was a sword. Then she attacked. Jon parried all her attacks, and often brought the branch to her neck with a quick move. She tried again, and again, and again. He gave her advice on how to position her feet, how to hold her imaginary sword, how to parry, divert or launch an attack. By the end, she was all sweating.
"Your mother won't like it," Jon said when they were over.
He dropped his own branch. They were in the godswood, around the middle of the day, not long after dinner. Jon had finally accepted, after repeated demands, to train her at sword fighting. She had asked Robb, but he had refused because their mother forbade it. Arya didn't understand why her brothers could learn to shoot an arrow, fight with a sword and ride while she was forced to stay put with a cloth and a needle, sharing stupidities with her sister and her stupid friends. Jon had accepted to train her in the end, saying Lady Stark wasn't his mother, hence he didn't have to obey all her orders.
"I don't care," she said. They began to walk away. "I want a real sword."
"Maybe you could ask Father," supposed her brother.
"Can't you get me one?"
"No, I couldn't. Not that." He ruffled her hair and they both smiled at each other.
The time for dinner was over, and they had to get back to the castle before someone discovered what they were doing. Arya knew her mother wouldn't like it if she knew Jon was training her. Her brother made sure to not hit her too hard as they trained, so she wouldn't fall on the ground and damage her dress in any way, or else she would know. She wished he hit her harder. She wanted to learn how to fight.
"Sansa would say a knight shouldn't hit a lady," he told her when they began.
"I'm not Sansa, you're not a knight, and I don't want to be a lady," she had answered.
"You surely won't be if you continue this way." He had ruffled her hair again. She liked it when he did it. Sansa always stood away from Jon and never talked to him more than necessary, but Arya didn't see any reason to do it. Jon was their brother. Shouldn't Sansa behave with him like she behaved with Robb, Bran and Rickon?
The godswood was a beautiful place. Arya had always liked it. It was less crowded than the other places of Winterfell, and there she could train. She used to train alone, trying to learn how to fight using a branch as a sword, but now she would have Jon to train with. Maybe they could ask Bran to join them. He could teach them both at the same time, and it would be much more funny.
"Why can't we use practice swords?" she asked Jon as they kept walking.
"Because Ser Rodrik would notice they are missing, and then he would discover the truth and tell your mother."
Again, Arya felt it was unfair. Jon went to the training grounds where he would spar with Robb and Ser Rodrik. Arya went to the maester's turret. She liked the lessons with Maester Lewin. Or more precisely, she liked the maester. He always gave them a pastry at the end of each lesson, and he was very kind. However, she liked his lessons less. Not that she hated all of them. After all, she liked it when he taught them history and talked about Aegon's sisters, but she hated that Sansa was better than her at almost everything. Sansa didn't boast about that, but Arya could see that her sister felt superior to her, just like she felt superior to Jon.
Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often if felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. When she would marry, Arya hoped for her husband's sake that he had a good steward.
She climbed many steps and entered the maester's room. Sansa was already there.
"We've been waiting for you. Where were you?" she asked.
"That's alright, Sansa. Your sister is not late," said Luwin. Arya took place next to her sister. "Very well. Today, we will see your multiplications and your divisions."
Good. Something Arya was better at than Sansa. Maester Luwin produced two sheets of paper and had them made a few exercises. Ten minutes later, Arya had finished.
"How did you do that? I'm only at the half," Sansa complained.
"That's not a race, Sansa," said the maester. "The objective is to give the right answers, not to answer quickly. Keep working, I'll look at Arya's results in the meantime."
Maester Luwin did so and found a few errors among Arya's answers and method. When he was done, Sansa still needed some time to complete her questions. While Arya made advanced exercises, he had to point several mistakes Sansa made. Arya thought she made fewer mistakes than her sister. While Lewin was explaining her mistakes to Sansa, they heard a knock on the door.
They heard the voice of their mother on the other side. "Maester Luwin."
"Come in, my lady."
Lady Catelyn Stark came in. She looked like an older version of Sansa, though Arya loved her mother much more than her sister. She often berated her for running into the mud and getting all dirty, or for behaving inappropriately, like she said, just like Sansa did, but she always forgave Arya in the end and smiled at her afterwards. Sansa simply disapproved of everything Arya did, and she got on her nerves most of the time.
"My lady." Luwin bowed respectfully.
She looked at her daughters. "I must interrupt your lessons, girls. A scout just arrived. They will be here in an hour. Follow me, you must prepare yourself."
Arya knew what it meant. They all knew what it meant. They were coming. They had been warned about this two months ago. Arya was quite excited. She wondered how they looked like.
They were escorted to the room they shared. Sansa had complained a few months ago about the fact they still had to share the same bedroom, and she had asked their mother for a room for herself, but their father had replied that they would have separate rooms the day they would get along with each other. Sisters who are not mature enough to live together are not mature enough to live alone, he had said. Sansa had complained, but they didn't move, and so they were forced to keep living and sleeping in the same place. Sansa tried to be more civil with Arya afterwards, but their bickering continued all the same. Nothing changed.
The maids and Septa Mordane helped them to dress and to arrange their hair. Sansa curled her hair and let them free, while Arya kept them as they always were, with a bun and a single braid. It was easier to run and ride this way. You didn't have hair falling onto your eyes or to worry that a bust of wind would disorganize them. Arya was ready before her sister.
"Can I leave?" she asked to their septa.
"Go and wait in the courtyard with your brothers, your lord father and your lady mother."
Arya went to the door and left. As soon as she was out, she pulled her hood over her face. She grabbed a helmet at the armory, hid it under her cloak and ran through the Hunter's Gate. Once outside, she removed her hood and put the helmet on her head. No one would notice her this way. Surely, they would go through the Winter Town before they came inside Winterfell. She wanted to see them before the others.
The inhabitants of the Winter Town were gathering to see them arrive. Arya mingled among them. However, she was smaller than most of the people. She searched for a place where she would have a better view. Maybe she should learn to climb like Bran, then she could see them from the top of the battlements, though she may only see them from afar in this case. She wanted to see them close. She found a cart and climbed on it. From there, she had a perfect view of the road leading from the Kingsroad that went through the town and continued to the South Gate. That would be where they would enter her home. Fortunately, the Winter Town was southwest to Winterfell, and the Kingsroad made a long deviation to lead from the town to the castle. This detour would give her enough time to join her family inside the castle through the Hunter's Gate after she saw them.
It didn't take long before they appeared. This was a large retinue indeed. Arya didn't remember her father ever bringing so many people with him when he visited the other lords in the North. The first men to arrive were knights. Arya couldn't distinguish their faces for most of them. They all had helmets, and the helmets hid most of their faces. They were riding in column, two riders at a time. The first two riders wore a red and black armor, along with a red cloak. Their helmets only allowed to see their jaws. They were carrying banners displaying a golden lion on a red field. The two riders who followed wore grey and green armor, their helmets allowing to see only the part of their faces from their mouth to their eyes. It encircled their faces. They carried green banners displaying a golden rose on a green field.
It went that way for some time. Two men in green followed two men in red, who in turn followed men in green. Then men on foot appeared, green, red and gold all mixed together. A huge wheelhouse followed. Arya had never seen such a big carriage. And then they came.
Arya recognized him the first. Even if she never saw him before, she couldn't have missed him. He was small, true enough. He wore furs, and had richly decorated clothes. However, he didn't look very much like Arya imagined him. He wasn't bald. His hair fell on his forehead, and he wasn't even disheveled. He didn't look ugly either. No beard, nothing malformed. Maybe his head looked a little big for his body, and he had shorter arms, but nothing really noticeable except that. He was only a man of small height. Arya was a little disappointed. She expected to see the Imp, but she thought he would be more amusing than that. She thought with some pleasure that Jeyne might find him handsome. She wasn't as tall as Sansa. She could tell her during their next embroidery lesson that he would make a good husband for her if he wasn't married.
Next to the Imp rode a woman. She looked young, not far from Robb's and Jon's age. She had brown hair that flew in the air, a thick green dress with gold on it, or so Arya thought, and something around her neck, some precious stone Arya couldn't put a name on. She looked behind them. There were other people who weren't dressed like soldiers, and a few women among them, but they weren't richly dressed like the Imp and the woman at his side. She had to be his wife. Arya had expected the Lady of Casterly Rock to be smaller, of an height with her husband. She looked to be of normal height, without anything particular. The woman was smiling as she looked over the people as they rode, and it reminded someone else to Arya.
She reported her attention on the Imp. He didn't smile, but he didn't look evil or angry either. In fact, his expression remembered her the expression her father put on when he had to be the Lord of Winterfell, like when he received petitioners or discussed with other lords. Maybe his face was a little darker, but not too much. He looked in her direction. It only lasted a moment, because he looked away very quickly, but she had the impression he looked straight at her for a second.
They went past Arya. Behind them were many other people, maybe servants, and other guards and knights. It was time for her to go back to the Hunter's Gate if she wanted to be in the courtyard when they would arrive. She climbed down the cart and ran to the gate. Arya didn't give any attention to the guards there. All she knew was that they let her pass. She had to be quick in order to get to the courtyard before the Lannisters began to pour in it.
She saw her family standing there, with a large open field before them to let the visitors come. She ran to her position that was between Sansa and Bran.
"Hey, hey! What are you doing with that on?" Her father stopped her. He removed her helmet. "Go on. Take your place."
Arya did it. She was sure she would earn a scold later, whether by her father or her mother, but most probably by her mother. A lady's duty is to support her husband, not to make war in his stead. Arya hated her lessons, even worse when Sansa was the one to repeat them. She found herself between her sister and Bran, pushing her brother to leave her some place.
She looked at her siblings. Her father, her mother, Robb and Sansa all had their head up, dignified, Sansa and her mother smiling while Robb and Father looked more serious. Bran and Rickon heads fell more into their shoulders. She knew Bran was curious about the Imp just like she was. Would he be disappointed when he would realize that the Lord of Casterly Rock was only a short man in the end? Behind them, Jon had their father's serious expression. He looked like him more than ever right now. Theon stood tall in a prouder position than her father's. They waited for the Lord and the Lady of Casterly Rock to come in.
They began to emerge from the South Gate. The knights came first. Since Arya had already seen most of them, she looked at the reaction of her siblings. Most of them remained impassive, but Bran looked impressed, and Sansa was marvelling at the show. She always wanted to see knights, just like Arya did, but not for the same reasons. Arya was interested to see knights because they knew how to fight, while Sansa only saw them as the heroes of the stories rescuing the ladies in distress. Maybe she saw herself like some of these ladies in peril who were only waiting for a knight like one of those to rescue her from a horrible little sister who put shit into her mattress. Arya hoped the knights would laugh at her if she ever told them that. Sansa didn't realize how stupid she looked sometimes, like when she talked about a dress ruined by some orange juice dropped on it, as if that was the worst thing in the world.
Then came the men on foot, much less impressive, but still, there were quite a lot of them. She noticed the skeptical look on her father's face. Then finally they came, the Lord and the Lady of Casterly Rock. From there, Arya realized all of a sudden how odd they looked together. She almost burst in laugh. She hadn't noticed this detail before, because she had focused on one of them at the time, but now that she looked at both of them together, she saw it.
She looked at Bran and Rickon, who looked essentially curious. Sansa, on her side, first looked surprised, but then she gained back the expression she had when the knights came in. Arya wondered how the Imp and his wife could rouse such admiration with Sansa. Robb looked surprised as well, and her mother too. Her father was better at hiding it, but she saw the surprise on his face for a moment.
Lord Tyrion Lannister and his wife stopped in the middle of the courtyard. A boy about Arya's age came to the lord's side. There was something like a ladder attached to the saddle he used. Arya had never seen such a big saddle on such a huge horse. He got off his horse.
"Thank you, Ty."
There were the first words she heard him say. She thought his voice would be squeaky, like the dwarves she imagined from the stories she read, but it wasn't. It was quite grave, like her father's voice, or Jon's voice, or any other man's voice. It seems the boring stories Sansa liked were not the only ones to be only stories. The boy went to take care of the mount and the Imp looked at them. After a moment when he just waited there, he walked in the direction on Arya's parents.
"Lord Stark," he said.
"Lord Lannister," her father replied in a neutral tone.
"It's an honor to meet you." The Imp offered his hand, and her father took it after some hesitation. It was quite strange to see her father speak with such a small man.
"Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Tyrion."
"Thank you. I knew the North was almost as large as all the other kingdoms combined, but that's the first time I test it. I wonder how you do to keep all these lands under control."
"The lords of the North have been loyal to House Stark for centuries, and they will remain loyal to House Stark for the centuries to come."
"I wish I could say the same about the Westerlands." However small the Imp was, he didn't speak at all like a child, or as if he was smaller than anyone else here. He turned his eyes to Arya's mother. "Lady Stark." He bowed to her.
"My lord." She inclined her head as well.
"You have great resemblance with your brother. We stopped at Riverrun on our way and we met your family."
"How are they?"
"Fine, for the most, but your father was quite ill, I'm afraid. He had to keep bed for all the time we stayed there. But I would say he was getting better. I had a discussion with him. He seems to be a good man."
"He is," Arya's mother confirmed.
"I like your brother too. He's a good drinking companion, though he ended under the table before I even began to get drunk."
Arya couldn't retain a laugh when she saw her mother's face, and Sansa's face too. Sansa didn't expect that surely, even less than their mother. A few people behind tried to contain their laughs as well.
"I suppose these are your children, my lord?" Lord Tyrion looked at them on their father's right.
"Aye." Their father kept his serious voice, the lord's voice. "My eldest son and heir, Robb."
The Imp went to the eldest of all of them and looked at Robb for some time. "So, Robb Stark. The future Lord of Winterfell. Let me tell you you're much prettier than the king you were named for." A few muffled sniggers could be heard from behind again, and Arya found it funny to see her parents' faces, not knowing what to do. "But don't worry. I for myself received my name from a king who was known for being unable to get any pleasure from a woman without having her bleed first."
The shock on Sansa's and their mother's face was priceless. Robb shook hands with the Lord of Casterly Rock after an awkward moment. He only a muttered a my lord. Arya didn't understand why everyone was acting so strangely.
The little man then turned to Sansa. He bowed deeply before her, though it looked quite ridicule with his height. "My lady. May I have the honor to know your name?"
"Sansa, my lord." Arya's sister didn't look very comfortable right now, but behaved like a perfect lady, as she always put it.
"You seem to take a lot after your lady mother, my lady."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you." Sansa managed to smile. She always smiled before guests, even if they were stupid or that she didn't like them.
"How old are you, Lady Sansa?"
"I'm thirteen, my lord."
The Imp looked quite surprised. "Thirteen." He considered her for some time, then he looked at their father. "Be careful with that one, my lord. She's going to break hearts, and a lot of them. I'm also afraid she'll get taller than her own parents."
He turned away and came before Arya. That was her turn. He looked at her. That was the same look she spotted in her direction back when she saw him in the town.
"So, here's the one who seems to like my japes. Who are you, little lady?" he asked.
Arya resisted the envy to tell him she wasn't a lady, but she remembered the lessons of Septa Mordane. She was looking, and her mother too. "Arya."
"Arya. Let me tell you, you seem to have more of the North in your veins than your brothers and your sister." He smiled at her, and she returned it. She supposed it was a compliment, and there weren't many who gave her some. "We've seen each other before, I think."
"I don't think so," Arya said, uncertain. She never saw Lord Tyrion before this day.
"Of course, we have. I saw you in the town. You were on a cart, with a helmet on your head." Arya was agape. He recognized her. He was smirking to her. What was she supposed to say? "How did you manage to get back here so quickly, before us?"
Arya decided after some hesitation that it would be better to say the truth. "I came back from another gate."
He nodded. "Hmm. You're quite resourceful, aren't you? I like that. It's an honor to meet you, Lady Arya."
He showed her the palm of his hand. He wanted to kiss her hand. Arya offered it on the side. He looked surprised, but she thought it was a little exaggerated. He shrugged in the end. "A shake of hands? Why not."
They shook hands. "Do you want me to kiss you hand instead?" she asked him.
"Arya!?" Her mother and Sansa almost shouted at the same time, but the Imp only grinned.
"No, I think shaking hands will be alright. I like you. You like my japes and you make good ones." He ruffled her hair and went to Bran. Finally, he was quite funny. Arya was laughing as he turned to her younger brothers.
"What's you name?" he asked to the oldest of the two.
"Bran."
"Bran? I suppose it's for Brandon."
"Aye, my lord."
"So, you are Brandon Stark. The man who built this castle. I have to say that I'm impressed. You made a good work."
Arya laughed again. Bran looked confused. "No… No. I'm not… I'm not this Brandon. I'm not Brandon the Builder."
"How sad. I would have liked to know how you managed to look so young after eight thousand years. But I'm glad to meet you all the same. Here, take my hand." They shook hands. "Hmm. You have a firm grip. You'll be strong enough to build castles later. Is that what you want to do?"
"I want to be a knight," Bran said.
"A knight?" Lord Tyrion seemed to think about something. "Interesting. In this case, I could introduce you to my brother when he arrives in a few days."
Bran's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Of course. I'm sure Jaime will be happy to meet a future fellow knight."
He smiled at Bran, and Bran did too. Ser Jaime Lannister was Lord Tyrion's older brother, the queen's twin brother, and a member of the Kingsguard, one of the most renown warriors in the Seven Kingdoms. Bran was obviously enthralled by the perspective of meeting him. The Imp patted his shoulder and turned to the last of Arya's siblings.
"And you, what's your name?" Rickon was almost the only one smaller than him.
"Rickon."
"Rickon. We have similar names. Tyrion and Rickon. We have a lot in common, my boy. We both are the smallest and the youngest of our family." He got a smile from Rickon and a shake of hands. "You can call me Tyrion, by the way, Rickon. You too, Bran, and you too Arya." He made the inverted path and arrived before Sansa. "I think that for the others, my lord will be more suitable."
He came back before Arya's father. There were rumors about the Imp being a horrible man, a demon out of nightmares, but Arya mostly saw a kind man who made jokes. She was glad he wasn't like the lords Sansa read about in her stupid stories. He was entertaining, while the others would be boring.
He was back before her father, and had a queer look. "Excuse me, my lord. Maybe I didn't count well, but I believe one of your children is missing."
A heavy silence fell. Of course, one of their father's children was missing. Jon wasn't among them. He was left behind, along with Theon, Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik among many. Arya looked at her brother who was behind her. He looked confused. When she looked at her father again to see what he would do, she noticed her mother's distressed look. She never understood why she didn't like Jon. He was their brother after all.
Finally, their father spoke. "Jon." He didn't say more.
Their brother stepped forward. Arya left him some space to get through, but Sansa didn't move. She looked away, as if she didn't know their brother. The Imp looked at him and slowly walked to Jon. He stopped a few feet away from him.
"So, Jon. It's you." He seemed to examine her brother. "You are the son of the Lord of Winterfell, for sure." Lord Tyrion looked at Arya, then back to Jon. "You seem to have as much blood from the North than your sister Arya." Arya thought she saw the beginning of a smile on Jon's face. She smiled herself too. She knew she looked much more like Jon than her other brothers and Sansa. "Try to look less dull. You should be proud. You were named after a Hand of the King who maintained peace in the Seven Kingdoms for seventeen years. Glad to meet you, Jon."
He offered a hand, and after a moment that looked like an eternity, Jon shook it. "It's an honor, my lord," he said.
The Imp turned back his attention to their father. Jon went back behind them. This time, Sansa stepped aside to let him pass just like Arya.
"The hospitality of Winterfell is yours, Lord Tyrion," her father said.
"Thank you, Lord Stark. But where are my manners?" He looked behind him, and his wife came forward. Her smile reminded Arya too much of Sansa. She didn't like it. "I present you my wife, Lady Margaery Lannister of House Tyrell."
"My lord, my lady," she said to Arya's parents.
"My lady." Her father bowed. "I met your father many years ago. He's a good man."
Lady Margaery didn't look impressed. She only shrugged. "The last time I saw him, he was still complaining that you stole his victory at Storm's End. But don't worry. My father isn't spiteful. He's just an oaf, the way my grandmother puts it."
She looked at all of them then, with a sweet smile that annoyed Arya. Arya could easily imagine her sister wearing the same clothes than Margaery Lannister and acting exactly the same way. That would be her style.
She turned her attention to the Lord of Winterfell. "If I may, my lord, we had a tiresome journey."
"Of course," Arya's father said. "My men will show you your rooms."
"Thank you."
"There will be a feast tonight. You and all your men are invited," said Arya's mother.
The Lady of Casterly Rock nodded. She looked at the Imp next to her. "Go on. I'll join you later."
"As you wish, my love," he said. He walked away, and Margaery remained alone with them. Their men began to unload, and there were many boxes and crates.
Margaery Lannister looked at the Lady Winterfell. "Excuse me, Lady Stark, but when we stopped at Riverrun, your father asked me to give you this." She produced a piece of paper from her gown and handed it to Arya's mother.
"What is it?" Arya's mother asked. Lady Catelyn Stark took the letter. She looked afraid all of a sudden.
"I don't know. I suppose he had a lot to tell you, and that he couldn't only tell it with a raven."
"Was he quite ill, when you were at Riverrun?"
"He had to keep bed, like my lord husband said. But I talked with him, and he didn't seem so bad. Maybe you'll learn more by reading his letter." Lady Catelyn Stark stayed silent for a moment, looking at the letter. "I'll see you later at dinner. I hope we'll get to know each other better then," she added for Arya and all her brothers and sister, still smiling sweetly. It was too much like Sansa. The Lady of Casterly Rock walked away. Arya wasn't sure she would like to know her better.
They disbanded afterwards. After a moment, when only Jon was close to her, Arya burst into laughs.
"What is it?" he asked her.
"You saw them. She's almost twice taller than him."
He laughed with her. The rest of the day went normally. The Lannisters and their men were settling in the part of the castle that was used for guests. Arya wondered how they would manage to hold everyone inside the castle when the king and his own retinue would arrive. She didn't really understand why the Lord and the Lady of Casterly Rock came here. She knew the Imp was the queen's brother, so maybe he wanted to spend time with his sister, but why come to Winterfell before her? She didn't complain too much. He seemed nice enough, but she was afraid she would get stuck with a second Sansa with his wife present here, wanting to know her better. There was also something else she feared.
"You've seen her dress, and the jewels she was wearing!"
Arya sighed. That was exactly what she feared. She was getting dressed, and unfortunately Jeyne had come to talk with Sansa in their bedroom. All they talked about was Margaery Lannister, as if they didn't talk enough about her since she arrived. They were about to go to the feast, and Arya wished it was already over.
"Yes, they were beautiful," said Sansa, admiration in her voice. She looked as if she was dreaming. "She must have fantastic dressmakers. I can't wait to see the queen. She will certainly look even more wonderful."
"Have you noticed the way her hair was braided? I wish I could braid my own the same way," said Jeyne.
"Yes, it looks marvelous. How do you think she does it?"
"She must have people to brush them. Have you seen how many servants she has? I envy them. They have better dresses than ours, and they're only servants. That's so unfair."
"I agree. But the king is coming soon. Maybe we'll go to King's Landing afterwards. I can't wait to go there."
"I want so much to be like her, later."
"Me too."
"OH, PLEASE SHUT UP!" Arya snapped. "You've been talking about this all day!"
Sansa replied immediately. "You're just jealous of her."
"Jealous? Me? I'm not the one talking about her jewels and her dress all the time as if I wanted to be in her stead. To me it looks like you're the one who's jealous."
"I'm not jealous. I just admire her," Sansa protested.
"Why? Because she's wearing a necklace made of gold and because she has servants following her everywhere? Because she happens to be married to a great lord?"
"Not at all!"
"Would you like to be married with him, Jeyne? With the Imp? You would wear the same jewels and the same gowns that his wife has. That would be your fairy tale, everything you've ever wanted," said Arya with a grin.
"I would never marry such a man!" Sansa's friend shouted.
"She's got jewels, and dresses, and servants because she has money, and she has money because she is married to the Imp. You want to be like her? Then you want to be married to Tyrion Lannister."
"I don't! I would never marry the Imp!" Horror was plain on Jeyne's face, and also on Sansa's face. Both of them would never marry a dwarf.
"Perhaps I should tell Lady Lannister about that, if that's what you think about her husband."
"You… You won't! I'll tell Mother if you do." This time, Sansa was the one to shout. Now fear had taken the place of disgust on her pretty face.
Arya liked to tease her sister. Sansa was so stupid. To trap her into her own dreams was very amusing, and it was just as easy with Jeyne.
"You envy me because you're not as beautiful as I am, and because if the king offers our father to marry someone to Prince Joffrey, it will be me," Sansa said.
Arya scoffed. "The only reason he will choose you is because you were born before me. That's not as if you did anything for that. Go and live with your stupid prince. I'll be rid of you."
Arya ran off the chamber. She went to the smithy to look at Mikken's work. She stayed there until the feast began. That was unfair. Sansa always got everything, and she did everything to remind everyone of the things she did well, even if she did it with subtlety. Truly, it made things even worse than if she openly bragged about it. Their mother always marvelled at Sansa's needlework, but never congratulated Arya for riding a horse or making her sums well. Arya would be happy if Sansa got away, and with Jeyne if possible. No one would call her Horseface anymore, and she would be free of Sansa's annoying presence and talents. However, if what they said around was true, her father could leave as well. Arya didn't want their father to leave.
When the time came, Arya went to the feast. Her mother seemed to look disapprovingly at her dress. She probably had some soot on it, but Arya didn't care. The feast was delicious. There was plenty to eat. Sadly, Arya had to sit with Sansa and Jeyne and the other ladies in Winterfell. She could feel Sansa's disapproving look whenever she took something with her hands, or didn't hold the right utensil with the right hand. She saw Jon at the other side of the Great Hall, sitting among squires, away from Robb and his other brothers. Arya never understood why Jon ate away from them during feasts while he always ate with them when there were no guests and no special events.
Sansa and Jeyne mostly talked in whispers, so Arya didn't have to suffer too much of their commentaries on how marvelous the Lady of Casterly Rock was, and since their eyes were almost always on the dais where Lady Margaery was, they left Arya quiet. Arya felt her eyes drawn to the dais as well. She saw her mother talk a lot with Lady Margaery. The Imp also took part to the conversation, but her mother didn't seem to like him. Her father didn't talk a lot. Arya saw Tyrion Lannister laugh several times. She noticed something strange with his wife. There was something that looked different with her when they talked together. She didn't know what it was, but she looked different, and her husband too.
At one moment, servants who weren't from Winterfell, the ones that the Imp and his wife came with, went all over the Great Hall with jars and poured everyone a cup of wine that had a golden color. Arya tasted it. It wasn't bad. It was better than the wine their father usually allowed them to drink. She managed to drink the whole thing. It was good.
She saw Lord Tyrion kiss Lady Margaery right after he finished his own cup and leave the dais. He walked out of the Hall. Where was he going? Sansa left her place not long after and came to the dais where she curtsied before the Lady Lannister. She had waited for the Imp to be gone to go and speak with his wife. As usual, Sansa preferred the company of boring people. Arya supposed this wasn't a surprise since Sansa was boring as well. Couldn't Sansa stop to act like a perfect lady for one moment and be her sister instead? Of course not. At another table, Arya noticed that Jon had risen too. Unlike Sansa, he didn't go towards the dais. Their mother wouldn't approve. He went to the door instead. Arya decided to follow him. It took time, among all the guests in the Great Hall. Some had begun to sing in a way Sansa certainly found horrible, but Arya liked it better.
Outside, from under an archway, Arya saw her brother smashing with his sword on a dummy. She started to move to join him. Maybe he could give her a few tricks.
"Is he dead yet?" Arya stopped in her movement. A little shape came out from the obscurity on the other side of the courtyard. Jon stopped to hit his target.
"My lord," he said, bowing.
"No need for formalities, Jon Snow. That's not as if there was someone else here."
Arya stayed in the dark under the archway. She wasn't sure what to do. "What are you doing out here?" her brother asked.
"I could ask you the same, but I'll answer first. I needed a piss, and a drink."
"Isn't there enough wine inside?"
"Yes, there is. But Margaery doesn't like to see me drink too much. She watches me closely."
"You're hiding from your wife to drink?"
"There was a common saying when my father lived. Tywin Lannister ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife. I suppose I'm keeping the tradition."
Arya thought she heard Jon almost laugh at it. She had to admit that it was funny to see a lord, even a dwarf, receiving order from his wife. She remembered how she sent him away to stay with Arya's mother when they arrived.
"But you, bastard, what are you doing outside?" Jon walked away. From where she stood, Arys could see he was angry. "Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard though."
"Lord Eddard Stark is my father."
"That's obvious. And Lady Stark is not your mother, making you the bastard." Arya wanted to run and punch the Imp in the face. She hated that when her brother was called a bastard. "Let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you."
Jon now looked at the little lord again. "What the hell do you know about being a bastard?" Her mother would have berated Jon for speaking like this to a lord if she was there.
"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes."
"You are your mother's trueborn son of a Lannister."
"Am I?" He sounded quite sardonic. "You should bring back my lord father to life and tell him. He seemed to forget that quite often before he died. And my sister too."
"You're the Lord of Casterly Rock."
"Yes, and if my father had had his way, my brother would be lord, my wife would be his wife, and I would be the Imp brother of the Warden of the West."
"I suppose it's better than to be the Kingslayer."
The little lord had no reaction for a time, then he made a humorless laugh. "Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need to be dwarfs. You're called after a Hand who gave peace and prosperity to the Seven Kingdoms for nearly as long as my own father, which is no mall feat. Your brother, the future Lord of Winterfell, is named after a king who spends his days whoring, drinking and eating, while his kingdoms are heading to ruin."
"That's quite cheering." Jon sounded quite sarcastic.
"You didn't tell me why you're outside."
"I needed some fresh air."
"Some fresh air away from Lady Stark, I suppose?" Jon didn't answer. "Don't make that face. At least your father is a good man. The same can't be said about mine. At least, it's your father's wife who keeps you away, not your own father, and your sisters love you. I can't say the same about my sister the queen." He raised a gourd. "To the Mother of Madness." He walked away on that while drinking.
When the Imp walked close to her, he said something. "You should learn to hide better." He didn't look at her while he went back into the Hall, but it was certainly meant for her. There was no one else around. The doors of the Great Hall opened to let him go in. The light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king. Then the door closed and the courtyard was in darkness again.
"Were you listening?" Jon had noticed her presence, but he didn't seem angry.
"Sorry. I didn't want to bother."
"That's alright." He had come close and ruffled her hair. "What are you doing here?"
"Taking some fresh air."
They shared a smile. "Away from who?"
"Sansa, Jeyne, and Lady Margaery, I think."
"Lady Lannister doesn't look that bad. She looks fine to me."
"She looks like what Sansa wants to be."
He smiled. "Don't be that hard on Sansa. She's our sister."
"I just wish she was less… ladylike, sometimes."
"Just like she would like you to be more ladylike. We should get back inside, before your mother starts to worry."
He ruffled her hair again, and they walked together back to the feast.
I always thought that if Tyrion had interactions with the other children of Ned Stark (aside from Jon) at Winterfell, he would probably get along better with Arya than with Sansa. They are both some sort of outcasts in this society and Arya would probably be much less indisposed by Tyrion's manners and japes than Sansa. Arya is almost much more curious about Tyrion than her sister. "Where's the Imp?"
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Next chapter: Sansa
