The sun slowly slipped back to the clearing blue sky when Storm Dancer sailed speedily towards King's Landing. Standing on deck – against the Tyroshi Captain Moreo Turnitis's advice – Arya stared straight ahead gloomily. While the weather had improved considerably from rainy to sunny, Arya's cold and grim mood had not since the moment she was forced out of Winterfell.
Yes, forced.
Seven days ago, when the cluster of grey clouds finally separated for the sun, it had been decided for Lyarra and Arya to leave for White Harbour in the escort of Theon of all people, Cley Cerwyn, heir of Cerwyn and for some reason, Domeric's second youngest uncle Rickard Ryswell. "I'll only be accompanying you to White Harbour," Rickard Ryswell had informed Arya, Lyarra, Theon and Cley. "My lord brother expects me to negotiate an alliance between House Manderly and House Ryswell." Arya didn't care. Rickard Ryswell often made snide comments and was more a pain than comfort. As for Cley Cerwyn, he was more pleasant and nice but that was because Cley often visited Winterfell to spar with the boys from time to time and dine with the girls.
"Does my lady like the view?" Captain Moreo Turnitis appeared at Arya's side, to her annoyance. "My lady is strong to stay on deck."
I'm not a lady! Arya wanted to shout, but what was the point? Everyone on the bloody galley would smile indulgently and still treat her like a lady. A proper lady, Arya thought with disgust. Curtseying demurely, singing stupid songs, sewing and dancing all day and dreaming of marrying princes. She wished she was to foster at Bear Island where she would continue her fighting lessons instead of going south to King's Landing. It is punishment, Arya pondered angrily. I'm being punished for a crime I didn't commit – Robb's crime. It should be Robb here, not me. She wasn't even allowed to bring Nymeria with her. She glanced in the direction of the decks. Lyarra would always mention something interesting about King's Landing. She hadn't this time.
"It's an honour of carrying a great lady like yourself on my vessel," the Tyroshi captain went on. "It is the greatest honour my lady. A reward in itself."
"Not for your oarsmen," Arya couldn't resist saying. Moreo's smile widened. "I doubt you will be captain for long if you ferry great lords and ladies around, with their presences onboard as payment. My brother Robb said each oarsman will be given a silver stag each as a token of his gratitude for rowing us to King's Landing quickly. Apparently no other galley is as fast as yours."
Captain Moreo grinned with pride. "Indeed my lady. No other galley is as swift as my Storm Dancer! Where is the other great lady?"
"My sister? Still in her cabin room." Lyarra hardly went on deck. Arya felt very sorry for her. Ripping her away from Domeric was punishment enough; shipping her to King's Landing was beyond cruel. Arya was slightly worried about Lyarra. When the party arrived at White Harbour, they were treated astonishingly kindly by Lord Manderly's son Ser Wylis Manderly and his wife Lady Leona. Lady Leona had asked Lyarra numerous times if she was ill because she ate very little during the feast. She looked more thin too. Unwell thin that was.
"We are almost at King's Landing," said Captain Moreo, still smiling. He bowed at her. "I will leave to check the oarsmen." He left and Theon strode up to Arya, a broad smirk on his face.
"Why are you so happy?" said Arya grumpily.
"Exchanging stories with Cley," responded Theon. "He's gone to check on your sister. That Tyroshi is quite entertaining isn't he? He told us about this fancy and rather upscale um, place in King's Landing."
Arya sighed. "Is it a brothel?"
Theon cackled good-heartedly, rubbing his hands together. "A pity we did not ride to King's Landing," he said, in a not-so-sorry tone. "I heard there is a number of excellent brothels on the way."
"Greyjoy," said Cley Cerwyn, joining them. "Discussing brothels with the Lady Arya?" He shook his head. "Your task is to escort and protect the ladies, not boast about your manliness and mention brothels."
"Why didn't you go fighting wildlings?" said Arya curiously. According to a few rumours she had heard, Robb had trouble finding her and Lyarra proper escorts. Apparently many heirs preferred fighting to escorting.
"Father told me escorting you and Lady Lyarra is more an honour than killing some wildlings." He lowered his voice. "Us Cerwyns have not been fortunate as of late. My great grandfather found more pleasure praying in the godswood than on his bed making heirs; my grandfather died hours before my grandmother birthed my father; and my father's two marriages were not as successful as he hoped. He first married Lady Arrana Tallhart and they had Donnor and Jonelle. Then Arrana Tallhart died. Childbed fever." Arya nodded, impatiently wondering why she was being told this. "Donnor died in Robert's war," Cley went on. "He was seventeen. I was not even born. Realising he and Jonelle were the only Cerwyns left my father remarried. My mother died giving birth to me. Donnor died in a battle. My father feared I would die too, leaving Jonelle as heir, hence why I was instructed to be a part of your escort my lady. My father said I will not fight at all until I am married and with a son or two of my own. So here I am, your escort."
"You betrothed?"
"Not yet," said Cley cheerfully. "Maybe I'll be the first Cerwyn to wed a lady of the south. Preferably a fertile woman in my father's eyes."
"A Frey?" suggested Theon. "Ugly as stoats but good at having children."
Cley shuddered. "Imagine being saddled with a Frey bride. Food stores will be running out much faster and it isn't even winter."
"Winter is coming," said Arya on impulse. The Cerwyn heir and Theon glanced at her. "We Do Not Sow," said Theon with a lingering smirk. Cley grinned back at him. "Honed and Ready," Cley said cheerfully.
"Really?" said Arya, exasperated.
"What?" said Theon, feigning confusion. "I thought we were saying our House words aloud. Is that not what you did? Winter is coming?"
Arya rolled her eyes. Tempted to throw him overboard, Arya left the boys and went down to see Lyarra. "The captain said we are almost at King's Landing," she called, pushing open the cabin door. She almost groaned as she saw what Lyarra was doing silently.
Writing more letters.
"Is that all you do now?" Arya complained, sitting down on a narrow bed.
"He did not let us say goodbye," murmured Lyarra. "I left Winterfell before we could say goodbye. Robb wouldn't even allow us that."
"He didn't let me say goodbye to Syrio either," Arya pointed out. "I don't know if Syrio is still at Winterfell or on his way home to Braavos." She hoped Syrio was still at Winterfell. "What Robb did was cruel to both of us, Lyarra, but we can't do nothing but pine for the past. Domeric was your betrothed. Now you are set to be married to the crown prince and Domeric has his own future wife. Father said to me once that we all pay for our own mistakes. We are innocent Lyarra. We didn't play a part in Robb's foolish deed. One day Robb will pay." She glowered. "I hope he pays dearly for it."
Lyarra looked shocked. "Arya!"
"What?"
"You cannot wish ill upon your brother! Robb is acting cruelly, but we still can never wish ill upon one's family. Robb will learn soon enough that he was harsh, and hopefully he will apologise. That is the best we can hope for."
Arya huffed. "No it is not. When we'd get into fights, Father and Mother would send us to our rooms without tarts and cakes and then the next morning at dawn, we'd have to go to Father's solar and explain our actions. I want Robb to suffer. It is ill-wishing, but I can't help it! If I get forced to marry a prince, I'll never forgive Robb." Worry crossed her mind. "Will I be married to Prince Ormund?"
Lyarra shook her head. "Unlikely. Even if the king wishes it, his lords won't. In their eyes, one northern match is enough. You have nothing to fear Arya. You will probably return to Winterfell with Father and Mother in a couple of months." She paused. "Maybe when the wildling war is over, you'll be fostered at Bear Island – a few months or even a year. I heard Maester Luwin talk about it before we left. It isn't set in stone, but Maester Luwin works for Winterfell's best interests and his advice is usually taken."
Arya sighed with relief. She had absolutely no desire to remain at court for the rest of her life – and always in a dress! The horror. "Do you know Theon plans to go to brothels when we arrive?" she said, changing the subject.
"I am not surprised." Lyarra cracked a smile. "I can't believe Theon still chases after prostitutes. How is Cley?"
Arya shrugged. Cley Cerwyn wasn't particularly interesting; he was not boring like Rickard Ryswell (he was much nicer too), but wasn't very entertaining either. Besides, apart from the story about his family, Cley did not talk to her as much as he chatted with Captain Moreo and Theon. "His father's very protective," she commented. To her surprise, Lyarra broke into laughter. "What is so funny?" asked Arya.
"He told you the family story didn't he?" giggled Lyarra.
"He told you too?" Lyarra nodded. "Before we boarded the Storm Dancer," she explained, "Cley enlightened me with the story of House Cerwyn's misfortune. He didn't sound particularly upset that he wasn't permitted to fight the wildlings. He actually seemed happy to be here with us. Then again, he is probably afraid to go and fight in truth. He's been indulged by his father all his life. Being the sole male heir of House Cerwyn and all."
Arya considered it. "Cley doesn't seem that spoiled."
"True. A little proud though. All he did was talk about him and his family. He'd told me that his mother was Lord Halys Hornwood's favourite sister Lady Lysara, and he is Lord Hornwood's favourite nephew."
The door opened and Theon poked his head in. "We've almost arrived. Do you want to come and have a look at the view? The Tyroshi captain said that it's quite unhealthy to stay cooped up in the cabin all day."
"Why not?" Arya prodded Lyarra. "Come on Lyarra." The two of them followed Theon back on deck. Though Arya was still unhappy at being shipped away from home, the view of King's Landing's shores was impressive. Arya craned her head, spotting great manses and arbours, granaries and brick storehouses, taverns and inns and no doubt brothels. Arya looked around. The harbour was crowded with ships. There were other trading galleys, some like the ones in White Harbour and others more colourful, moving slowly to the docks; a large and beautifully ornate barge tied beside a fat-bellied ship with hulls black as tar; and at least a dozen – if not more – lean warships, their flags bearing the Baratheon stag waving wildly in the air as the strong wind swooped down on them.
As Storm Dancer drew closer to a pier, Arya heard Captain Moreo bellow at his oarsmen in another language – Valyrian? At once, sixty oars lifted from the river, then reversed and backed water. The galley slowed. Another shout. The oars slid back inside the hull. As they thumped against the dock, a few men of the Tyroshi captain's crew jumped down to tie Storm Dancer down. Captain Moreo bustled to Arya, Lyarra, Theon and Cley Cerwyn and said with a huge beam. "King's Landing, my lords, my ladies, as you did command, and never has a ship made a swifter or surer passage. Will you be needing assistance to carry your things to the castle?"
"Lord Stark's servants will do it," answered Theon, nodding in the direction of a small number of men in Stark livery waiting nearby.
Arya waited as Lyarra handed the captain the sixty stags that was promised. It is a good thing Theon wasn't given charge of the coins, thought Arya. Knowing her father's ward, he would probably have spent half of it on an expensive prostitute when they were still at White Harbour. It would've been a good thing. If Theon by chance had spent all our coin on prostitutes, maybe we would be forced to return to Winterfell. Arya dismissed that musing almost at once. For one, Theon had coin of his own. For another, if the money was to disappear, the Manderlys might give an appropriate sum – which Robb would naturally pay back.
Arya sighed and forced herself to smile as she saw Jory Cassel approach. Might as well be ready for a new life…in King's Landing.
Far from feeling restful after a quick meal in Father's room, Arya was whisked to the Great Hall with Lyarra, Father and Mother. "The king is insisting on having court now that both of you have arrived," Mother had explained.
"Why?" Arya complained. "We just arrived!"
Mother's lips tightened. "He is the king. We obey the king, Arya."
Arya huffed. "We just arrived."
"I know that Arya." She glanced at Arya's plain, old (and bearable) grey, high-collared dress. "What happened to your blue gown?"
"What blue gown?"
Mother sighed. "The blue gown Lyarra sewed for you for your last name day. I thought you would look lovely wearing it."
"I cannot fit it anymore. I grew."
"I'll make you more dresses then. Maybe I will have a seamstress or two make you a new dress or two in the southron fashion. You'll need a special dress when Lyarra marries Prince Orys. There's still time I believe." She smiled.
"What's wrong with my dresses?" Arya said grumpily. "You wouldn't allow me to roam around King's Landing wearing my water dancing clothes. At least let me be comfortable in my old gowns." The rest of the walk from Father's chambers to the Great Hall was in uneasy silence.
The doors to the Great Hall swung open and Arya was instantly accosted by an ocean of stares and whispers. Arya refrained herself from scowling. She looked at Lyarra on her left. Lyarra was still thinner than usual, but she was smiling at the courtiers who gawped at them. What are we? Arya thought. Exotic animals taken from the Summer Islands? It was like the southroners have not seen a northerner in their lives before.
The sea of lords and ladies slowly parted ways, allowing Arya, her sister, their father and mother to move closer to the Iron Throne. Arya recognised the king at once. Whilst Lyarra looked thinner, the king looked fatter. A huge smile appeared on his face as he saw them. The king was in the midst of a conversation with a tall, grim-faced man, but when he noticed them, he waved the man away. "At long last Ned!" the king roared, beckoning Arya, Lyarra and their parents forward. He also gestured for someone – a young man no older than Lyarra – to walk towards the foot of the Iron Throne.
"Your Grace." Father stopped and bowed. Mother, Lyarra and Arya curtsied.
The king nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes." He studied Arya and Lyarra. "Both of you, welcome to court," he announced kindly. "Lady Lyarra, you are beautiful and look like your lady mother. Lady…Arya, you look like you late aunt Lady Lyanna." To Arya's alarm, the king's eyes grew misty. "She was a beauty, Lady Lyanna. You look like her, Lady Arya." Arya blushed as she felt a hundred pairs of eyes boring into her. "There will be places for both of you," said the king generously. "Both of you will serve in the queen's household until the wedding which will be held in a few days' time. After that, Lady Lyarra will have her own household befitting her rank as a princess and my good-daughter. Lady Arya may choose to remain in the household of my queen or to join her sister's household."
Father bowed again. "That is very generous Your Grace."
The king grunted. "Lady Lyarra," he said, addressing Lyarra. "Do you recall my son Orys?" The young man stepped forward and smiled at Lyarra. Arya looked at her. Lyarra smiled back at Prince Orys. Arya didn't know whether to roll her eyes or grimace. She decided to stare at the hunting tapestries instead.
"Court is over," the king decided, standing up. "Orys, take your betrothed for a walk in the gardens. Ser Arys, accompany them. Ned, come with me. Lady Stark, I think you should take Lady Arya around the Red Keep. The queen can do without your company for a few hours, eh?"
The queen nodded expressionlessly. Arya was slightly taken back. When she'd last glimpsed Queen Catelyn at Highgarden, the queen was quite kind and always had a smile on her face. Her daughter was jilted, Arya reminded herself. Of course she isn't happy right now. Arya hoped the queen wouldn't scold her for her untidy needlework like Septa Mordane did. Do queens chastise their ladies for being bad at sewing? Arya hoped not.
"Will I have time to practise water dancing here?" Arya inquired, following her mother out of the Great Hall and into a maze of corridors. "Father will send Syrio here wouldn't he?"
Mother sighed. "You won't have time to practise water dancing," she said with a hint of faint annoyance.
"Father and I made an agreement-"
"-it does not hold in the south," Mother cut in tiredly. "I know you wish to um, continue with your martial pursuits Arya, but you are here to serve the queen as one of her ladies. It is a high honour Arya. A punishment for House Stark yes, but it is an honour nonetheless. Usually the queen chooses her own ladies – mostly it would be her friends and family – which is why northern ladies often miss the ah, opportunity to be ladies to the queen."
"We made an agreement," Arya repeated. "Father said we should always keep our word. He always did…" Her voice trailed off.
"He told me about your agreement. Sword instructor and in exchange, you will act more ladylike in certain situations. You promised you'd attend all lessons and that included sewing. Septa Mordane told me you haven't missed a lesson, but…" She hesitated. "Your sewing has not improved. Apparently a child of six can sew a few lines straighter than you."
Arya rolled her eyes. "It isn't that crooked now," she said defensively.
Mother laughed softly. "I am sure it isn't," she said kindly, squeezing her hand. She sighed again. "You are a true northerner," she murmured.
"Yes…?"
"You're a wolf. Say it's the worst of winters and you're alone on unfamiliar and perhaps hostile lands, what will you do to survive?"
"Fight all my enemies for meat and shelter?"
"What if another pack of wolves come? You will be alone."
"What do you want me to say?" said Arya, exasperated.
"Integrate to survive, Arya. Sometimes you kill to survive, but other times you try and assimilate. Not the most effective for wolves, but for lords and ladies, it is. I know you don't like acting the part of a lady, but for your own good, try. As long as you remain in King's Landing, you'll be a proper lady." Before Arya could even protest, Mother rushed on and said. "House Stark cannot sink any further. Do you understand Arya? Be a proper lady."
"I'm not a proper lady!" said Arya angrily. "I never will be!"
"Try," hissed Mother, glancing around. "I apologise for being so demanding but I have to! I'm your mother and I know what court is like."
"How can you? You were hardly a courtier! You were only here for a couple of weeks before you went to Winterfell because you were pregnant with Robb! You told me that, remember?"
Mother's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "I know more than you think, Arya Stark," she said finally. "Much more. Do you think you were the first highborn girl desiring to learn to fight? Do you know what it is like at court? I was a lady of the court before I married your father, Arya. When I was young, I was a friend of…of Elia Martell." Arya's eyes widened. Mother had never told her that. "Quite a close friend too. I served as her lady-in-waiting…until she sent me away." Mother then bit her lip. She shook her head. "I said too much," she muttered. She looked back at Arya. "Be a proper lady," she warned.
To avoid further argument, Arya forced herself to nod. "Yes Mother," she said, lying through her teeth. I will not bend to be a proper lady. "I promise I'll try to be a…a proper lady."
Even though Arya likes to fight more than sew, I think she can still offer good advice to Lyarra like any sister would. My own younger sister would sometimes give me good advice and our interests and personalities are pretty different.
Now on the pace of the story, do you want it to slow down in the next few chapters (Eg. More chapters devoted to the three days before the wedding) or speed up (after a chapter or two it would skip to the wedding)? I don't mind slowing down or speeding up. Please tell me whether you want it slowed down or sped up! I'll go by the highest number of votes counted up by the time I upload the next chapter (hopefully Wednesday).
