Arya frowned as Robb and Jon fussed over the arrangement of where people stood, they had been planning the King's arrival for weeks, yet the closer King Robert got the more irritated Jon and Robb seemed to become. Arya was excited, she had been allowed to wear her painted leather armour and her weapons. Robb had argued for her to be permitted to wear the armour, Father had been against it at first, partly as it was heavily painted with Dothraki symbols, both for protection, and marking her as a Khalakki of the Great Ver. Father had wanted her in a dress, but Robb had argued that it was dishonest and a compromise had been reached: Arya had to wear a dress to supper, but could wear her armour and weapons during the day. Arya was happy to have Frostbite on her right hip and her orvik (whip) on her left hip, she knew they were putting on a show for the King, but hopefully she wouldn't be forced to take them off after the King left, she just needed to prove that she could be responsible with them. She was beyond pleased to have her zhavorsa bone kohol (dragon bone bow) on her back, but the way Robb and Jon were fussing over every tiny detail was starting to worry her. The kohol (bow) was one of the six that had been gifted by Illyrio, each of the Stark children, including Jon and Theon, had one on their backs, and a quiver of arrows to go with it. The furs on Arya's shoulders were styled differently to the ones that Father and her brother's wore, Madatti had styled them to lace up at the side, leaving her left shoulder relatively clear to make it easier to use her kohol and orvik. There was an arm hole in the right side, meaning that she wouldn't have to throw it off in heavy combat, unlike her father and brothers. The fall of the cloak also hindered an opponent with a whip from snatching away her blade. Her gloves were the softest doe skin, and her knee-high boots were decoratively painted and the toes polished to glistening.
Lady was on her right and Nymeria on her left, Alys, Jorelle, and Mya all stood behind her. Alys and Jorelle had an iron sword, a orvik, and a kohol, each wore painted leather armour. (Jasatti, whom had painted the armour, said that the symbols on their armour showed that they were part of Arya's Khas, and their roles within it.) As well as the armour Alys wore a fur lined cloak with the white sun on black of her House emblazoned on the fabric, Jorelle simply wore a black bear skin over her armour. Mya was dressed differently, she did not have leather armour, or a cloak, she had a long black double quilted gambeson, sturdy pants, and fur-lined boots to help keep her warm. Her gloves were undyed wool, but well made, old Nan had knitted them for her. Mya wore sword, orvik, and kohol, just like Arya, Alys, and Jorelle, but unlike Alys and Jorelle Mya's bow was zhavorsa bone (dragon bone) and was the sixth of the ones gifted by Illyrio. Alys seemed very put out by Mya getting the superior bow, which was silly, considering Alys had only started training with a bow in the last year, and Jorelle preferred melee weapons. Mya deserved the better weapon because she was more skilled with it.
Bran stood to the left of Arya, beside Nymeria, even though Arya was older Bran was a boy, and so got to stand closer to Father, he was also dressed in painted leather armour, with an iron short sword on his hip, his zhavorsa bone kohol was his only other weapon as he had no skill with the orvik, his furs were cut like Father's, but shorter. His direwolf, which still didn't have a name, stood on his left. Robb was to the left of that, his iron sword was an unadorned longsword. Robb wore a dark grey gambeson under a coat of plates. He wore a steel gorget, with twin facing direwolves emblazoned on it and steal shoulder guards and vambraces. His freshly cut curls rested on his carefully brushed grey furs over his shoulders. Robb also had no interest in the orvik, but he wore his kohol (bow) proudly. To his left was Grey Wind.
Beside Grey Wind stood Father, in full armour with the Valyrian longsword, Ice, on his back and his helm under his arm. The Armour was well worn, scratched, and dented, but his furs had been brushed until they shone. His gorget was identical to Robb's, but his furs were longer and thicker. To Father's left stood Ghost, then Jon. Jon and Robb were almost dressed identically, but Jon's gambeson and furs were black where Robb's were grey, Jon's hair was longer and his curls were tighter, and his armour was not adorned with direwolves. Jon and Robb's swords were identical, and Brans was a shorter version of the same style. Theon's sword was identical to Jon and Robb's as well, was that intentional? As well as sword and kohol Jon sported an orvik, his orvik was longer than Arya's, but then he was also taller. (But not as tall as Robb.) To Jon's left stood Kraken then Theon.
Theon's armour was different, a chest plate and shoulder guards over heavy wool, a Kraken inset into the centre of his chest. He wore thick black leather gloves, leather pants and high boots with metal plates inserted around the knees. The armour was typical of the Iron Islands, and designed to be worn on ships, apparently one of the rules on ships was no loose clothing or cloaks. His iron longsword was identical to Robb's and Jon's. He had a nasty looking curved knife on his belt which he had won off of one of the guards that had returned from Essos in a game of dice. (Arya believed he had cheated.) He wore black furs around his shoulders, identical to Jon's, and a heavy gold chain around his neck.
A horn blast sounded, then another. "The King is coming!" Somebody yelled as a third horn blast was heard.
"Look sharp," Father bellowed. "Straight lines, you're solders, stand proud."
Arya was nervous, excited, impatient, and curious all at once. She didn't want to stand and wait, she wanted to run to the stables, saddle Blacksword, and ride out and meet them. But she remembered her lessons, both from Maester Luwin, and from her Dothraki teaches, and stood her ground. As the Lady of Winterfell she had initially feared that she would be expected to entertain the Queen and her daughter, she had assumed that she would be forced into a dress and relegated to sewing in the corner the entire visit. Instead they had spent the four weeks leading up to the King's arrival planning combat and riding displays. Father seemed more than content to show off Arya's skills with horse and bow, and Zhowi and Zirqi had spent log days helping Arya plan out a number of displays, all of which Father had given approval for. It hadn't been quite that easy to escape her role as Lady of Winterfell though, Arya would have to wear dresses at supper, and there had been as many hours of dress fittings and complaining as there had been of training in the last four weeks. Old Nan had found some pretty dresses, if slightly old-fashioned, tucked away somewhere and Madatti and Jeyne Poole had helped alter them to fit Arya's skinny frame. The dresses were beautiful, but that didn't mean Arya wanted to wear them.
Arya abandoned her wandering thoughts as the visitors finally poured through the gates like an invading army, hundreds of them, covered in gold and finery, golden banners caught the wind, each with the black crowned stag of House Baratheon. It vaguely reminded Arya of the time that Illyrio had visited, when she was four, showing off his wealth as if riches were all that made a man. But Arya knew better, she preferred cold steel to gold and furs to silks. Arya liked the plain black, grey, and white of House Stark, they were true colours. Gold only had value because people believed it did, but steel's value was in the quality of the crafting, Mikken had taught her that. The King somehow seemed to be an exception to the golden monstrosity of the rest of the caravan. He rode a heavy war horse, about the only animal able to carry him in his heavy, double plate armour. The armour was not shiny and new, it was the same armour that he had worn at the Trident, one of the steel antlers was damaged from where he had fallen, injured, after killing Prince Rhaegar, the armour had dents and scratches, just like Father's. Real armour was made to be used, Ser Rodrick had taught her that.
Prince Joffrey rode behind King Robert, on a much smaller horse, and in much lighter armour that had never seen a scratch, even on the training field. The Crown Prince was short and slim of build, with golden hair. He wore a padded doublet (far too short to be called a gambeson) with a shield embroidered on it, the shields arms were divided down the middle, with the crowned stag of House Baratheon on one side and the Lannister lion on the other. Surprisingly his blade, a cut down longsword, had a lion's head pommel on it. Everything about him was golden.
Arya was still trying to decide what she made of the Prince as the King dismounted. The King was taller that Arya had expected, and his shoulders were almost as wide as Hodor's! He must have been at least six and a half feet tall and the antlers of his helm brought him to over seven feet, everything about him was immense, even his war hammer was huge, it looked heavier than Arya herself. The King removed his helm and pressed it into the hands of one of his Kingsguard, the guard was tall, although not as tall as the King, he was older and his hair was grey, but he still looked strong, Arya thought the guard's eyes looked sad.
"That's Ser Barristan Selmy." Mya whispered quietly. "King Robert is the third King he has served, they say he spars with the King almost every day… They say he used to spar with Prince Rhaegar as well, and that he is as good, if not better, than Ser Arthur Dayne was."
Arya nodded, being in the front row she couldn't really respond, but she appreciated Mya's efforts. Mya had been to King's Landing years ago, when Yohn Royce had been presented with the sword known as Lady Forlorn. As the King approached Arya pushed the thoughts aside, she needed to pay attention. The signal was quick and simple, a sudden twitch on the index finger of father's right hand, had her eyes been less sharp she might have missed it. She knew he would be doing the same with his left hand as they had practiced this many times over the last week. The front line all managed to kneel as one, the rest of the courtyard quickly following their lead. King Robert strode towards Father confidently, for a second or so there was absolute silence, then the King signalled Father to stand, Arya and the others remained kneeling.
The King seemed serious for a moment as he looked Father up and down. "Your armour has dents in it." He muttered.
Father raised his eyebrows at that, the King's armour was more dented than his was, Mikken had given Father's armour many repairs over the years. King Robert laughed a bellowing laugh and embraced Father fiercely. "Always so serious." He muttered, he signalled for everybody to stand, then turned his attention to Jon. "Is this the one you named after me? He's got the look."
"No, your grace." Jon replied quietly, lowering his gaze. "I'm the one he named after Lord Jon Arryn." A muscle in Jon's jaw twitched as if the comment had upset him
King Robert frowned and looked at Father in question. "I..?"
"This is my white wolf, Jon Snow, although he seems to prefer black, and you will remember my iron wolf, Theon Greyjoy, your grace." Father said quietly, gesturing towards Theon. "My grey wolves are to my right."
"So they are." King Robert agreed, he seemed to truly notice that the direwolves were not just hounds. "Do you always have to be so literal, Ned?" He turned his attention to Robb. "So, you're Robb?"
Robb nodded. "Yes, your grace, and this is Grey Wind." Robb patted Grey Wind's head.
King Robert nodded and moved along the line. "And you?"
"Bran, your grace, Brandon." Bran answered hesitantly.
"And the wolf?" King Robert prompted.
"Direwolf," Bran whispered softly. "They're direwolves… your grace, not wolves… I haven't named mine yet."
"Hmph." The King replied. "I'm shit and naming pets too, show me your muscles." He instructed, Bran did his best, but he really didn't have muscles, his was skinny and scrawny, hopefully when he got older he would start to bulk up like Father.
The King then moved to Arya and frowned, looking confused. "Sansa?"
Arya shook her head. "No, your grace, Sansa lives in Pentos, I'm Arya, and these are Nymeria and Lady."
"Oh," The King seemed genuinely surprised that Sansa wasn't there. "Nymeria…? Why, you are an odd one, how old are you, nine?" He asked, frowning.
"Eleven, your grace, I'm just small." She felt like the King was inspecting her, evaluating her, that made her nervous, and when she was nervous she tended to speak. "These are my handmaidens, Alys Karstark, Jorelle Mormont, and Mya Stone."
"Mya Stone." The King repeated.
"Yes, your grace." Arya nodded.
King Robert seemed to pause for a second, his gaze straying to Mya, he took a half step, as if going to walk over to her, then brought his attention back to Arya. "That's a nice looking sword, do you know how to use it?"
Arya smiled. "Yes, your grace, Ser Rodrick says I'm a natural, I can also shoot a bow from horseback better than any of my brothers."
The King seemed impressed by that. "You can shoot a bow from horseback?" He asked.
Arya nodded. "With the right saddle, yes."
"I like you, you remind me of your Aunt Lyanna." The King said, he seemed a little sad, but the moment was quickly broken when Queen Cersei exited her carriage, her daughter and younger son not far behind her.
The queen looked more beautiful than any woman that Arya had ever seen, more beautiful even than Allyria had looked when she had come to choose her stallion, but there was something empty about the Queen's eyes. Ser Jamie, was just as handsome, the twins both had green eyes, like emeralds, and hair like spun gold. It was easy to see that Princes Joffrey and Tommen, and Princess Myrcella all took after their mother. Another carriage pulled up and a much younger woman with dark skin, like nothing Arya had ever seen, stepped out. She was a different type of beauty, strange and exotic, five children between the ages of three and seven were with her. Things quickly became tense between the two women.
"Who's that?" Arya whispered to her handmaidens.
"The King's mistress, Yaya." Jorelle replied.
"Shocking." Alys muttered. "Simply shocking."
Suddenly another thought occurred to Arya, she frowned and looked around. "Where's the imp?"
~~/~~
Arya's dress was a mix of grey and white velvet, plush and soft, with intricate detailing on the bodice. Arya hadn't worn a dress in years, and she felt strangely naked in it, even though she was fully clothed. Madatti had altered the dress for her, and it had passed Old Nan's inspection, but that didn't mean that Arya was happy with it. It was too thin, for one, even with the stupid underskirt she would freeze on the way to the Great Hall, or she would have if they hadn't wrapped her in a large blue woollen cloak than smelt musty, like it had been locked away in a box for twenty years. Old Nan had done her hair, and when Jory Cassel came to collect her he froze at the sight of her.
"I look stupid, don't I?" Arya muttered.
Jory shook his head. "No… you look like… that cloak was your Aunt Lyanna's, and that's exactly how Old Nan used to do her hair… I… thought I was seeing a ghost for a moment there." He gently pulled the hood of her cloak up over her hair for her. "You look beautiful."
Arya clutched the cloak to her in surprise and turned questioning eyes towards Old Nan. "Lyanna's?"
"The dresses were Lyanna's when she was younger as well." Old Nan answered plainly. "Where exactly did you expect me to find a new wardrobe for you in four weeks, child? Now go, don't keep the King waiting."
Arya nodded and she, and her handmaidens hurried towards the great hall with their escort. King Robert wasn't waiting, however, he was arguing. The King had insisted that his Mistress, Yaya, and her children attend the feast. The decision had caused dis-order and there had been some hasty re-arranging. No matter what was suggested Queen Cersei was not happy: she couldn't believe that Yaya and her children were being allowed to walk in with them, she couldn't believe that Yaya's children and Jon were to be allowed to sit with her children, she couldn't believe that Arya's handmaidens were to be included, especially Mya, whom she referred to as 'a lady's maid, not a handmaiden'… she couldn't believe that the direwolves were permitted to join them… Eventually Ser Barristan firmly, but politely, reminded her that they were guests at Winterfell, and suggested she suspend her disbelief. King Robert's words were far less kind, but finally an order was agreed upon.
Ser Barristan and Ser Jamie entered the Great Hall first, then Queen Cersei with King Robert on one arm and Father on the other. Robb, Grey Wind and Princess Myrcella came next, Myrcella seemed afraid of Grey Wind, yet Grey Wind had been nothing but good. Nymeria, Arya, and Prince Joffrey came behind them, then Alys and Jorelle, then Mya and Lady. Alys would not handle the direwolves and Arya felt closer to Nymeria than to Lady.
Then came Bran, his direwolf, and Prince Tommen, they were followed by Theon and Kraken. Behind that came Ghost, Jon and Lady Yaya. Chatlala Waters, who was seven, came next, she had the same dark skin, hair and eyes as her mother, all of Yaya's children did. Lala did not seem as scared of the direwolves as Myrcella was. After that came Lala's brothers, Arryn and Xala'xama, who were six and five respectively, then came Lala's two younger sisters, Cassandra and Steffony, who were four and three. Four more royal guards made up the rear in two sets if two.
Finally everybody was seated, the formalities were addressed and then the feast began. Prince Joffrey was arrogant and rude, and very disgruntled about having been forced to walk behind Myrcella for once, and the more he talked the less Arya liked him. Tommen was worse, he was quiet and shy, and clearly afraid of his older brother, he didn't talk at all. Tommen kept glancing over at Arryn and Xala'xama, who were laughing and playing with Bran, Tommen seemed to want to go join them, but it was clear that he wouldn't be allowed. Lala and Myrcella seemed to both have doting eyes for Robb and after an hour or two of watching them Arya had watched more than enough, in an attempt to relieve the tension she loaded up some peas (now cold) on a spoon and flicked them in Lala's direction, Lala laughed and threw a piece of parsnip at her, before long both girls were laughing and chasing each other around the table.
Suddenly Jon was there, scooping her up into the air. "That's enough, don't you think?" He asked, he was trying to be serious, but there was the beginning of a smirk on his lips.
Jon had been sad for weeks, ever since he had learnt the truth of his mother… whatever that may be, there was no way that Arya was missing this opportunity to make him smile, she wrapped her arms around him tightly and started peppering him with kisses.
"Arya, Arya stop." Jon muttered, seemingly embarrassed.
"Make me." Arya replied and continued to drop kisses here and there.
Suddenly there was a mischievous glint in his eyes, one that she hadn't seen in over a month, and he started to tickle her. She laughed and squirmed out of his arms and he laughed as well, a real laugh. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and raised his eyebrows at her. "Right, shekhikhi, bed." He instructed.
Arya pouted and looked towards Father at the top table, but Father simply nodded in agreement, the King and Queen were also watching, King Robert looked amused but Queen Cersei was frowning.
"Wild little thing, isn't she? I guess that's what happens when you don't have a mother." The Queen muttered loudly.
Robb, who had risen from the table to usher Bran to bed stopped and turned to face the Queen. "I'm sure you would know, your grace, you were seven when yours died, yes?"
The King roared with laughter. "I like him, Ned, you did right naming him after me."
Queen Cersei looked angry, but that wasn't fair, she'd been the one to start it, why did she have to be so rude and mean? "Why are you so mean?" Arya exclaimed.
"Arya!" Ned exclaimed, rising to his feet. "That's enough."
"But she is mean!" Arya protested. "She's been nothing but mean and nasty since she arrived."
Suddenly Jon was kneeling in front of Arya, between her and the Queen. "Arya," He said very softly. "The Queen is not mean, she's sad. She's had a long journey, to a place far colder than she is accustomed too. She is tired, and there are people here, including me, that she doesn't want here. Watching you run around and laugh with children that are her husband's, but not hers, cannot make her happy. Please, just apologise."
Arya looked at Jon's pleading eyes, then at her father, whom looked nervous, she then looked at Queen Cersei, the Queen's jaw was ridged, her lips thinned in anger. "I'm sorry that you're sad, I'm not sorry for playing with Lala, or for having all of my brothers here, but I'm sorry that you're sad. I'll let Jon take me away now." She wrapped her arms around Jon's neck and held on tightly as he stood, lifting her up, she quickly wrapped her legs around him, burying her head in his shoulder.
"Well, that was almost an apology." Jon muttered, he started walking, but Queen Cersei called out to him.
"Stop." Arya looked up and saw that Queen Cersei was standing now. Jon gripped her tighter as the Queen rounded the table and approached, the hall growing quiet. "Sad that I get more kindness from a bastard than the rest of the room combined," She said haughtily. "Let me look at you." Before Jon could say anything queen Cersei's long fingers were wrapping around his jaw, forcing him to look at her. "Dark hair, dark eyes, so much Stark in you, but what else?"
Jon held the Queen's gaze. "It doesn't matter, does it?" He replied.
"You look quite a lot like Allyria Dayne, you have those same strange dark grey eyes, your long face is Stark though. I think Ashara is your mother."
Jon's arms tightened even more around Arya and his jaw clenched for a moment, then he forced it to relax. "With respect, you may believe as you wish, your grace. Believe my mother was a direwolf, or a weirwood, if it pleases you. Now, I either need to get Lady Arya to bed or put her down, do you wish to keep watching her play with Lala?"
"No." Cersei replied.
"Then perhaps you may wish to release my face." Jon suggested, Cersei immediately pulled her hand away. "Thank you, your grace."
"You are a brave bastard, aren't you?" Queen Cersei challenged.
"Speaking of bastards," King Robert interjected. "Mya Stone, come here."
Mya stood and slowly approached the table. "Your grace." She said quietly, head bowed and eyes lowered.
"Stand up straight." King Robert commanded. "That is not how a Baratheon stands."
Mya straightened and met his gaze. "I am not a Baratheon, I'm a Stone, your grace." She answered calmly, but there was a flicker of… something… in her eyes.
King Robert nodded. "True, but you are my daughter, my firstborn, I acknowledge you and give you permission to wear the House sigil reversed, a golden crowned stag on a black field." He sent a glance to Lord Stark then looked at Mya again. "Wear it under a direwolf if it makes you happier."
Mya nodded and bowed. "Thank you… your grace."
King Robert nodded. "Mya… I will make time to speak with you while I am here."
Mya nodded. "Yes, my King." She said softly. "If you will excuse me, I must attend Lady Arya." She placed a hand on Jon's shoulder, urging him to walk. They exited the hall quickly, Nymeria, Lady and Ghost followed without being called and Alys and Jorelle weren't far behind. Once they were outside of the hall and halfway across the courtyard before Jon put Arya down. Arya noticed with shock that his hands were shaking.
"Shit," Jon muttered. "That wasn't fun."
"Jon, what's wrong?" Arya hugged him tightly and he hugged her back.
"The Queen." Jon whispered. "I… I didn't like that."
"Jon!" Robb called out, Arya looked across the courtyard and say Robb striding over, Bran and their direwolves behind them. "Gods, Jon, are you alright?" Jon nodded weakly and Robb pulled him into a crushing embrace. "Stay away from her, Jon." Robb whispered. "Gods, I thought… stay away from her Jon."
"I'll try to." Jon agreed as Robb let him go.
Robb nodded, then turned his attention to Mya. "Well, that was eventful, are you alright?" Mya's nod was as unconvincing as Jon's had been, causing Robb's expression to soften. "Mya, he acknowledged you."
Mya nodded, then the first tear slid from her eyes, Robb's arms were around her in an instant. "Shhh, people are stupid." Robb said quietly. "Your name doesn't change who you are, even if he had naturalised you, it wouldn't change you, you'd still be the kind, sweet, horse-loving person that I respect and admire."
Mya nodded and pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "That's not why I'm crying." She said quietly. "It's…"
"Finally knowing." Jon finished for her.
Mya nodded. "Yeah."
Arya didn't know what to say or do, she wanted to comfort Jon, but didn't truly know why he was upset. She wanted to comfort Mya, but she was confused there too, surely finally knowing the truth was a good thing? Robb seemed upset too, scared even, and that just made things even more confusing.
Jorelle cleared her throat. "Mya, I don't think we need your help tonight, why don't you talk with Jon for a while?"
Mya gave Jorelle a thankful smile and turned towards Arya. "My Lady?"
Arya hugged her fiercely. "Will you still be my handmaiden?" She asked, Mya nodded. "Good, go talk with Jon, I'll see you tomorrow… we can talk to Madatti about getting a proper cloak made for you in the morning."
"No, I'll make it." Alys said quietly. "I have a couple of ideas, but we can talk about it over breakfast."
"Lady Alys…" Mya seemed surprised by the offer.
Alys shook her head. "It's the least I can do after how I've treated you, I… I was taught that names matter, and they do, but I still haven't been fair to you. I'm glad you've been acknowledged, I understand why Lord Stark has done so much for you now, I'm sorry for being so jealous."
Mya nodded and bowed deeply to Alys. "Thank you." She said quietly, then turned towards Jon.
Arya watched as the two of them started walking towards the stables, Ghost beside them, Jon would help her… and maybe she would help Jon? Who would help Robb?
~~/~~