Chapter Five
–
There is no truth.
There is only perception.
–
Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Game of Thrones series written by George R.R. Martin. Eleonora, Nyx, and Moon are my own inserts, but I own no other characters.
"Kol, take two men and go further west," shouted Jory to his men as they dispersed into the darkness. "I'll take Lady Eleonora south for a bit longer. We'll stay close to the creek."
Stark men had been searching for Arya for four days, but the queen's men had been out hunting her as well. It was a race against time. Arya had apparently gotten into a scuffle with Prince Joffrey, Nymeria, and the butcher's boy Mycah. She had run off into the woods with Nymeria and no one had seen her since. Eleonora had not left Jory's side looking for Arya. She knew, other than her father, there was no one more dedicated to bringing her home safe and sound. She appreciated him for that. Jory and Eleonora held torches as the moon as their sole source of light otherwise. They left their horses back at camp, so they could scour the smaller crevasses throughout the wetlands. Eleonora was distraught. The idea of Arya alone in the forest made her ill. She worried for her, and she couldn't imagine anything happening to her youngest sister. Eleonora tripped over an eroded root, barely catching herself. Jory took firm hold of her arm to steady her. She had barely slept over the last few days or eaten for that matter, and she was in a foul mood.
"You should go back and rest," said Jory.
"I'm fine," she replied, heaving a deep breath.
"Nor-"
"I tell you, I'm fine," she snapped, jerking her arm from his hold then immediately regretting it. "Forgive me."
"It's alright," he replied, nodding and wisely choosing to drop the subject.
The pair walked in silence for a long while, alternating their calling of Arya's name. The wind had a chill that felt sweet on the cheeks of the northerners whom already longed for the cold of their home. There were creatures in the trees that sung haunting songs and dozens glowing eyes that seemed to follow them.
"Do you remember the last time Arya ran off into the woods?" asked Jory, attempting to distract his counterpart.
"No, she never runs away from anything," she retorted.
"Come now, of course you do," he replied, undeterred. "She couldn't have been too much older than Rickon is now."
Eleonora paused, a quiet smile growing on her lips as she fondly recalled Jory's memory. "It was just after my sixteenth Nameday feast. My mother thought it wise to invite House Umber, House Tallhart and House Forrester as a last stitch effort to match me with a fine, eligible northern lord."
"I remember," said Jory, biting his tongue in distaste from the subject but pleased with himself for bringing a smile to Eleonora's face. "I also will never forget the screams of your mother and Lady Elissa when you and Asher Forrester were found alone and naked in the fresh springs in the middle of the night."
"We were just going for a swim," she smirked.
"No one just 'goes for a swim' with Asher Forrester," he teased.
"I can hardly recall an instance my mother's face was more horrified," she laughed. "I worried her eyes would surely fall from her skull."
"I imagine the fact that Greatjon Umber had gotten so drunk that he pissed on the floor in the center of your Nameday feast did little to settle her nerves either," Jory laughed in spite of himself.
"Ser Helman Tallhart laughed so hard that he spilled an entire pitcher of wine on mother's new green dress," said Eleonora. "She stood up so fast that she knocked her own chair out from under her. Helman tried to help her up but slipped on the wine he had just spilled, knocked over a candle that proceeded to set one of the banners aflame."
"How could I forget about the fire," said Jory. "I also cherish the memory of Smalljon Umber rising nervously to his feet to propose a toast in your honor at the final dinner before their departure, and you then quite suddenly projectile vomiting onto Theon's lap beside you. To this day, I have never seen your brothers laugh so hard."
"Robb collapsed from his chair and took Jon with him," said Eleonora, giggling to herself.
"Smalljon is a good lad," said Jory. "I'd say he's fancied you since the two of you were children. I imagine he still does."
"I love Smalljon like a brother, and he would make a fine husband for a northern lady," she said, "just not for me."
"Then after you became ill at dinner and retired to your chamber, Lord Gregor Forrester tried to salvage the evening by making the humorous suggestion that his youngest son Ryon betroth Arya so that some good come from their visit," he said.
"Arya took his joke to be true and ran out into the night," said Eleonora. "I feared we would never find her."
"But we did find her," he replied.
"We did," she cooed. "She was curled up like a newborn pup, fast asleep under a pile of hay in the tower…"
Suddenly, a rustling could be heard from behind them. Jory drew his sword as quick as Eleonora pulled an arrow from over her shoulder holster. She aimed her bow at the noise just as Nymeria appeared, Arya looking exhausted and filthy behind her. Eleonora immediately lowered her bow as Arya sprinted forward and nearly knocked her sister over, hugging her waist. Jory removed his coat and walked around to cloak her. Eleonora held her little sister's head firm against her waist, stroking her hair as she sobbed. Finally, she knelt down to look into her sister's eyes, wiping away her tears.
"Oh, Arya, you have no idea how worried we've been," said Eleonora, pushing stray hairs from Arya's face. "What in the Seven Hells happened?"
"I was play fighting with Mycah, the butcher's boy," she sniffled. "Joffrey and Sansa saw us and Joffrey started hurting Mycah, so I fought him off. He was swinging his sword at me – not a wooden one – and Nymeria bit him, but she was just protecting me!"
"Of course she was," said Eleonora, nodding and Arya breathed a sigh of relief, "but, pup, you know Nymeria cannot come back with us now, not after what's happened?"
Jory did not speak, but his face reared up at her suggestion. Arya looked up at her sister through her tears.
"They would kill her, wouldn't they?"
"If Joffrey took no issue attempting to slay a little girl then I fear the life of a pet wolf matters little," she replied.
Shouts from Lannister guards could be heard echoing in the trees. They would be upon them soon. Nymeria tilted her furry face to the side as if trying to understand their conversation.
"Where will she go?" Arya cried.
"I'll send her back with two of my men before sunrise," said Jory.
"No, Jory," said Eleonora, "if they were to be seen then it would be on your–"
"Then we'll have to make sure I pick my most loyal two men," said Jory, "Two that will not get caught. They'll only ride at night and only through the trees. I'll speak to your father on the matter when it is done."
Jory removed his belt and gently wrapped it around Nymeria's neck as a makeshift leash. Arya whispered her goodbyes in the direwolf's ear and hugged her neck tight as the voices grew nearer. Jory led Nymeria further into the woods, extinguishing his torch in the creek.
"Nora, find Gamel and Kol," said Jory quickly, "have them prepare two horses and meet me in the trees behind the gatehouse."
"Jory–"
"Do as I say," said Jory before disappearing into the darkness. He would not dream of giving orders to a Stark if the situation was not so dire. Both Lannister and Stark men fell upon them moments after Jory's departure, Jaime Lannister included.
"Arya, you're safe," Kol exclaimed, smiling through his mop of dark auburn hair.
"Where is the beast?"
"She ran off after the fight," said Arya, unblinking.
"We'll bring her to the queen and come back for the wolf," said a man in golden armor to his men.
"She is a Stark, and she will go with Stark men," said Eleonora, firmly resting her hands on Arya's shoulders.
"She is responsible for wounding Prince Joffrey," said the Lannister guard, "and she is coming with us."
He reached forward and grabbed Arya forcibly from her sister's embrace, knocking Jory's coat to the ground. The little girl reached out to her sister and the man lifted her onto a horse to share a saddle with another Lannister guard. The few Stark men present drew their swords as the Lannister men responded the same. Eleonora silently held up her hand to motion the Stark guards to put away their weapons and then so did their golden foes. She laid eyes on Jaime Lannister, stone-faced and emotionless at that moment. She took a long time to draw her eyes away from his before speaking.
"If you plan to take my sister then you will take me too," she sneered. "I will not have her travel alone."
The Lannister guards meant to protest but Jaime Lannister spoke first, extending his hand to join him on his horse's back, "Well, come on then."
The others paid her no mind and led their horses towards the Trident castle, their temporary home. Jaime Lannister was the last to follow, waiting for Eleonora to join him. She sent him a nasty glare, picking up Jory's coat and carrying it to Kol. She handed the coat to Kol and whispered in his ear, "Find Gamel, ready two horses for a ride north and meet Jory in the tree line behind the gatehouse. Tell no one."
Kol nodded silently, motioning for his men to return to camp. Eleonora refused Jaime's hand, choosing to take a running start and leap onto the horse without his assistance. He smirked and released an amused chuckle. She begrudgingly wrapped her arms around Jaime's waist as he dug his heels into his horse's side to follow the other Lannister guards.
"How lucky to have found your sister all on your own and how wise for the wolf to flee without coercion," he said in a sardonic tone. "Maybe wolves are not so loyal after all."
–
"They've found her, my lord."
Ned rose quickly. "Our men or Lannister's?"
"It was Lady Eleonora, and she is by her side still," his steward Vayon Poole replied. "She's not been harmed."
"Thank the gods," said Ned. His men had been searching for Arya for four days now, but the queen's men had been out hunting as well. "Where is she? Tell them to bring her here at once."
"I am sorry, my lord," Poole told him. "Our men were outnumbered soon after by the Lannisters. She's being taken directly before the king…"
"Damn that woman!" said Ned, striding to the door. "Find Sansa and bring her to the audience chamber. Her voice may be needed."
He descended the tower steps in a red rage. He had led searches himself for the first three days, and had scarcely slept an hour since Arya had disappeared. This morning he had been so heartsick and weary he could scarcely stand, but now his fury was on him, filling him with strength. Men called out to him as he crossed the castle yard, but Ned ignored them in his haste. He would have run, but he was still the King's Hand, and a Hand must keep his dignity. He was aware of the eyes that followed him, of the muttered voices wondering what he would do.
The castle was a modest holding a half day's ride south of the Trident. The royal party had made themselves the uninvited guests of its lord, Ser Raymun Darry, while the hunt for Arya and the butcher's boy was conducted on both sides of the river. They were not welcome visitors. Ser Raymun lived under the king's peace, but his family had fought beneath Rhaegar's dragon banners at the Trident, and his three older brothers had died there, a truth neither Robert nor Ser Raymun had forgotten. With king's men, Darry men, Lannister men, and Stark men all crammed into a castle far too small for them, tensions burned hot and heavy.
The king had appropriated Ser Raymun's audience chamber, and that was where Ned found them. The room was crowded when he burst in. Too crowded, he thought; left alone, he and Robert might have been able to settle the matter amicably. Robert was slumped in Darry's high seat at the far end of the room, his face closed and sullen. Cersei Lannister and her son stood beside him. The queen had her hand on Joffrey's shoulder. Thick silken bandages still covered the boy's arm. Arya stood in the center of the room, hugging her eldest sister's waist, every eye upon her.
"Arya," Ned called loudly. He went to her, his boots ringing on the stone floor. When she saw him, she cried out and began to sob.
Ned went to one knee and took her in his arms. She was shaking. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"I know," he said. She felt so tiny in his arms, nothing but a scrawny little girl. It was hard to see how she had caused so much trouble. "Are you hurt?"
"No." Her face was dirty, and her tears left pink tracks down her cheeks. "Hungry some. I ate some berries, but there was nothing else."
"We'll feed you soon enough," Ned promised. He rose to face the king. "What is the meaning of this?" His eyes swept the room, searching for friendly faces. But for his own men, they were few enough. Ser Raymun Darry guarded his look well. Lord Renly wore a half smile that might mean anything, and old Ser Barristan was grave; the rest were Lannister men, and hostile. Their only good fortune was that Sandor Clegane were missing, leading a search north of the Trident. "Why was I not told that my daughter had been found?" Ned demanded, his voice ringing. "Why was she not brought to me at once?"
He spoke to Robert, but it was Cersei Lannister who answered. "How dare you speak to your king in that manner?"
Jory entered the chamber as the queen shouted and his expression changed once he saw Eleonora. Cersei noticed this. She was a beautiful little creature, hair so dark in shined blue under the moon, a small stature, pale skin, perky tits, crystal eyes the size of saucers and a demeanor that could attract even the most severed men – especially her own husband. But Cersei saw right through her. She knew that Eleonora Stark would mean trouble for her sooner rather than later.
"Quiet, woman," he snapped. He straightened in his seat. "I am sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get the business done with quickly."
"And what business is that?" Ned put ice in his voice.
The queen stepped forward. "You know full well, Stark. This girl of yours attacked my son. Her and her butcher's boy. That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off."
"That's not true," Arya said loudly. "She just bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah."
"Joff told us what happened," the queen said. "You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him."
"That's not how it was," Arya said, close to tears again. Eleonora put a hand on her shoulder as their father glanced over.
"Yes it is!" Prince Joffrey insisted. "They all attacked me, and she threw Lion's Tooth in the river!" He did not so much as glance at Arya as he spoke.
"Liar!" Arya yelled. Eleonora hushed her sister.
"Shut up!" the prince yelled back.
"Enough!" the king roared, rising from his seat, his voice thick with irritation. Silence fell. He glowered at Arya through his thick beard. "Now, child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king." Then he looked over at his son. "When she is done, you will have your turn. Until then, hold your tongue."
As Arya began her story, the door open behind them, it was Vayon Poole entering with Sansa. They stood quietly at the back of the hall as Arya spoke. When she got to the part where she threw Joffrey's sword into the middle of the Trident, Renly Baratheon began to laugh. The king bristled. "Ser Barristan, escort my brother from the hall before he chokes."
Lord Renly stifled his laughter. "My brother is too kind. I can find the door myself." He bowed to Joffrey. "Perchance later you'll tell me how a nine-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river." As the door swung shut behind him, Ned heard him say, "Lion's Tooth," and guffaw once more. Eleonora had never carried an opinion on Renly before, but she rather liked him now.
Prince Joffrey was pale as he began his very different version of events. When his son was done talking, the king rose heavily from his seat, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere but here. "What in all the seven hells am I supposed to make of this? He says one thing, she says another."
"They were not the only ones present," Ned said. "Sansa, come here." Ned had heard her version of the story the night Arya had vanished. He knew the truth. "Tell us what happened."
His eldest daughter stepped forward hesitantly. She was dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She blinked at both her sisters, then at the young prince. "I don't know," she said tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. "I don't remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn't see…"
"You rotten!" Arya shrieked. She flew at her sister like an arrow, knocking Sansa down to the ground, pummeling her. "Liar, liar, liar, liar."
"Arya, stop it!" Ned shouted. Jory pulled her off her sister, kicking. Sansa was pale and shaking as Eleonora lifted her back to her feet and straightened her hair. "Are you hurt?" asked Eleonora, but she was staring at Arya, and she did not seem to hear.
"The girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers," Cersei Lannister said. "Robert, I want her punished."
"Seven hells," Robert swore. "Cersei, look at her. She's a child. What would you have me do, whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It's over. No lasting harm was done."
The queen was furious. "Joff will carry those scars for the rest of his life."
Robert Baratheon looked at his eldest son. "So he will. Perhaps they will teach him a lesson. Ned, see that your daughter is disciplined. I will do the same with my son."
"Gladly, Your Grace," Ned said with vast relief.
Robert started to walk away, but the queen was not done. "And what of the direwolf?" she called after him. "What of the beast that savaged your son?"
The king stopped, turned back, frowned. "I'd forgotten about the damned wolf."
Ned could see Arya tense in Jory's arms. Jory spoke up quickly. "We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace."
Robert did not look unhappy. "No? So be it."
The queen raised her voice. "A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin!"
"A costly pelt," Robert grumbled. "I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold."
The queen regarded him coolly. "I had not thought you so niggardly. The king I'd thought to wed would have laid a wolf skin across my bed before the sun went down."
Robert's face darkened with anger. "That would be a fine trick, without a wolf."
"We have a wolf," Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph.
It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably. "As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it."
"Robert, you cannot mean this," Ned protested.
The king was in no mood for more argument. "Enough, Ned, I will hear no more. A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later it would have turned on your girl the same way the other did on my son. Get her a dog; she'll be happier for it."
That was when Sansa finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to her father. "He doesn't mean Lady, does he?" She saw the truth on his face.
"No," she said. "No, not Lady, Lady didn't bite anybody, she's good…"
"Lady wasn't there," Arya shouted angrily. "You leave her alone!"
Eleonora wrapped her arms around Sansa, holding her against her waist as Sansa sobbed hysterically. She ran her hands over her hair, hushing her gently.
"Stop them," Sansa pleaded, "don't let them do it, please, please, it wasn't Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can't, it wasn't Lady, don't let them hurt Lady, I'll make her be good, I promise, I promise …" She started to cry harder.
Ned looked across the room at Robert. His old friend, closer than any brother. "Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please."
The king looked at them for a long moment, then turned his eyes on his wife. "Damn you, Cersei," he said with loathing.
Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself."
Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall.
"Where is the direwolf?" Cersei Lannister asked when her husband was gone. Beside her, Prince Joffrey was smiling.
"The beast is chained up outside the gatehouse, Your Grace," Ser Barristan Selmy answered reluctantly.
"Send for Ilyn Payne."
"No," Ned said. "Jory, take the girls back to their rooms and Vayon, bring me Ice." The words tasted of bile in his throat, but he forced them out. "If it must be done, I will do it."
Cersei Lannister regarded him suspiciously. "You, Stark? Is this some trick? Why would you do such a thing?"
They were all staring at him, but it was Sansa's look that cut. "She is of the north. She deserves better than a butcher."
"It matters little now, Your Grace," said Ilyn Payne, suddenly entering the hall behind them. "The second wolf cannot be found."
"What?" Cersei spat.
Eleonora immediately jerked her head to face Jory. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and sent her a quick look. She had not thought of the fate of the other wolf but thankfully Jory had. He knew better than her the character of the Lannisters, and his wisdom saved not one direwolf but two.
"I was at the gatehouse a moment before and it appears as if the beast gnawed through its tether," said Ilyn Payne. "There's no telling how long ago."
Cersei was too furious to speak. She looked fiercely at Eleonora as if to accuse her of hiding the wolves under her skirts. She opened her mouth but never found her words. Instead she stomped out of the hall without another word, slamming the door behind her. An audible release of breath escaped the lips of everyone in the hall.
"Lady is alive?" Sansa sniffed.
"Lady is alive, and I imagine she is on her way home to Winterfell," said Eleonora, stroking her sister's hair.
Ned Stark looked at Jory Cassel and then to his eldest daughter. He waved Vayon Poole to his side, "Take Sansa and Arya to their rooms. I need to speak with Lady Eleonora and Jory.'
Vayon Poole obeyed his lord and led Sansa and Arya to their rooms in silence. Jory and Eleonora followed Ned as he escorted them to the courtyard towards the tower. He made certain no wandering ears could be seen before speaking again.
"Where are the wolves? Who was behind this?"
Eleonora opened her mouth but Jory stopped her.
"It was all my doing, my Lord," said Jory with unwavering confidence. "I placed both wolves in the capable hands of Kol and Gamel. They're making their way to Winterfell as we speak. I could not watch a creature of the north be slain at the hand of a Lannister. I apologize for acting without your consent, my Lord, but I do not regret my decision."
Ned stood quietly for a moment as if he was mulling over Jory's confession. Suddenly, Lord Stark reached forward and gripped the back of Jory's neck and squeezed in an affectionate way.
"Sometimes honesty does more bad than good," said Ned. "I am proud to have you by my side, Jory. The true fate of the wolves must travel no further south."
Lord Stark released Jory's neck and smiled at him just as Sandor Clegane and his riders came pounding through the castle gate, back from their hunt. There was something slung over the back of his destrier, a heavy shape wrapped in a bloody cloak.
"We may not have found your daughter, Hand," the Hound rasped down, "but the day was not wholly wasted. We got her little pet."
He reached back and shoved the burden off, and it fell with a thump in front of Ned, Eleonora and Jory. Bending, Ned pulled back the cloak, dreading the words he would have to find for Arya, but it was not Nymeria after all. It was the butcher's boy, Mycah, his body covered in dried blood. He had been cut almost in half from shoulder to waist by some terrible blow struck from above. Eleonora gasped, covering her mouth as she stared down at the little boy. Jory pulled her against him. The Hound's eyes seemed to glitter through the steel of that hideous dog's-head helm.
–
The news of the butcher's boy's death was as difficult to relay to Arya as Ned had imagined. She screamed, she cried, she threw anything at arm's length and collapsed on her bed before her father could console her. Arya blamed herself for placing Mycah in such a predicament, she blamed Sansa for lying to portray her indifference before the king, she blamed Joffrey for lying to his queen mother, and she blamed the Hound for brutally taking Mycah's innocent life long before his time.
Ned attempted to calm her, but he knew nothing he could say would console her completely. Eleonora quietly closed the bedroom door behind her, slinking into the dimly lit hallway to join her father.
"Rickon is sleeping still," she whispered, "and Sansa is pretending as if to ignore me. I thought it wise to split Sansa and Arya's sleeping arrangements for the night considering the circumstances. How is Arya?"
"I imagine the walls were not thick enough to silence her cries," said Ned painfully. His gaze fell onto Arya through the cracked door and Eleonora's followed. "She's asked to be alone."
"She doesn't truly mean that," said Eleonora. "I'll sit with her tonight. The morning will arrive soon."
"No, I am her father," said Ned, shaking his head slowly, "and you have been just as sleep deprived as I have the last few days."
"Father, I imagine the man who is allowing the sister who just lied before the royal court to marry the boy who's responsible for the murder of her friend would be last on a long list of visitors Arya would wish to avoid," she said quietly but firmly.
"I could do without your condescension," he replied.
"I mean no disrespect, father," she sighed, "but you cannot deny that what just transpired was nothing short of formidable. Joffrey Baratheon is not fit for Sansa to marry. What we witnessed this evening was the behavior of a mad man."
"He's still a boy," said Ned. "His temperament is fierce, but he will learn how to lead a household and a kingdom with time."
"He is the same age as Rob," said Eleonora. "A man's temperament can evolve, but Joffrey is very obviously dastardly by nature. It is in his blood."
"You have spent little time in his presence," he replied. "Do not jump to such an unwarranted conclusion."
"Unwarranted?" she scoffed. "His disposition is as warm as Castle Black. I have witnessed him speak ill of our home, our family. I have heard him solicit Sandor Clegane to kill Bran's direwolf, and the slaughter would have taken place had Tyrion Lannister not have stopped him. And after what has happened tonight, how can you claim to elude the same notion?"
"Remember yourself, Eleonora," said Ned, and though his tone was gentle, his message was stern. "I have allowed you ample opportunity to speak your peace, and I have heard your concerns. We will not speak of this again in such a manner. There are far too many listening ears between Winterfell and King's Landing, and you must make a stronger effort to abide by sovereign decorum. We are far from home and your iron-willed behavior will not be well received in the southern court."
Eleonora clenched her jaw so hard that she feared all of her teeth would grind to dust. She respected her father more than anyone, but the idea of altering her headstrong ways to appease a southern society did not bode well on her conscience. She was not surprised to be reprimanded for speaking her mind. It was not the first occurrence of such a conversation with her father, and in all likelihood would not be the last. She knew she was too old to have the unfavorable tendencies she had, but being headstrong was only considered unfavorable to everyone but herself.
Choosing to bite her tongue for the time being, Eleonora heaved a heavy conceding sigh, "Yes, father."
Ned kissed his eldest daughter's forehead in appreciation. Arya's disappearance had nearly done him in and King's Landing was still quite a journey crept inside Arya's chamber, lifted her skirts and climbed onto the large canopy bed behind her small sister. She positioned herself on her side and propped her elbow in a manner to keep her head up on a tilt. She used her other hand to affectionately stroke Arya's tear soaked hair from her eyes. Arya's tiny body shook after each silent, heavy sob. She didn't speak for several minutes and Eleonora did not press her for words. Finally, Arya managed to stifle her weeping.
"He was my friend," Arya finally choked out. "He was my friend and now he's dead because of me."
"Hush, pup, it's not your fault," said Eleonora. "The Hound struck him down. It was his blade, his hand, that killed Mycah."
"Sansa lied," she sniffled.
"She did," said Eleonora.
"She going to marry Joffrey," said Arya. "They're both liars. They deserve each other."
"Arya, Sansa was in a difficult position," said Eleonora. "She was put before the king and asked to humiliate her future husband."
"What would you have done?" she asked in an aggressive tone.
"I am not Sansa," said Eleonora, "nor are you."
"I hate her," she cried.
"You shouldn't say such things," said Eleonora, kissing the back of her sister's head to soften her words. "Sansa may be different than you or I, but she is still family - she is blood. Winter is coming, and we need to stay together."
Arya rolled over onto her back and looked helplessly up at her sister, her eyes brimming with more tears.
"I want to go home," said Arya, sniffling.
"As do I, pup," said Eleonora, pushing Arya's hair from her eyes, "as do I."
–
Eddard Stark rode through the towering bronze doors of the Red Keep sore, tired, hungry, and irritable. He was still ahorse, dreaming of a long hot soak, a roast fowl, and a featherbed, when the king's steward told him that Grand Maester Pycelle had convened an urgent meeting of the small council. The honor of the Hand's presence was requested as soon as it was convenient. "It will be convenient on the morrow," Ned snapped as he dismounted.
The steward bowed very low. "I shall give the councilors your regrets, my lord."
"No, damn it," Ned said. It would not do to offend the council before he had even begun.
"I will see them. Pray give me a few moments to change into something more presentable."
"Yes, my lord," the steward said. "We have given you Lord Arryn's former chambers in the Tower of the Hand, if it pleases you. I shall have your things taken there."
"My thanks," Ned said as he ripped off his riding gloves and tucked them into his belt.
The rest of his household was coming through the gate behind him. Ned saw Eleonora, looking just as tired as irritable with Rickon sharing her saddle and looking much more enthused than she. He called out to her. "It seems the council has urgent need of me. See that your brother and sisters find their bedchambers. Jory should stay with you until I return. Arya is not to go exploring and nor are you." Eleonora bowed her head, too exhausted to argue.
Eleonora dismounted her horse and took Rickon into her arms. Jory carried Arya as Sansa followed closely behind her sister. The stewards led them into what would become their home away from home. The chambers were richly furnished. Myrish carpets covered the floor instead of rushes. Large hearths occupied each of the individual bedrooms, though not one was aflame due to the unforgiving heat. The walls were hung with tapestries from Norvos and Qohor and Lys, and a pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanked the main door, eyes of polished garnet smoldering in black marble faces.
"You may each settle into your rooms, but you will obey father and stay put," she said, yawning and setting Rickon to the stone floor. "Arya and Rickon you will rest before the welcome feast tonight, and I will hear no arguments today. Sansa, I recommend the same, but you may do as you please as long as you stay in your room. Understood?"
No arguments were heard as exhaustion overtook them all. Within a minute, all bedroom doors closed and silence echoed through the main chamber. Eleonora's room was beside Rickon's and across the hall from Sansa and Arya. Once the others were out of sight, Eleonora brought Jory into her private chamber, locking the door behind them. Her room was grand, just as the others surely were. An enormous balcony overtook the room, the sea breeze causing the sheer white curtains to dance. The view was beautiful, undeniably so, even by the bitter northern lady. Her bed was larger than any bed she had seen before, four posts draped similar hangings as her bed in Winterfell. Goose feather pillows and ornate décor gave a very cozy feel. The heat, however, suffocated Eleonora Stark. Her heavy garments from the north felt like a hindrance now, like she was drowning in humidity and dense cloth. There was no denying the heat was there to stay; Eleonora could feel the silk underdress clinging to her chest. Thick, moist air covered the city like a damp woolen blanket.
Jory removed his coat, helping Eleonora unfasten her gown from behind. She stepped out of her dress, leaving it in an unkempt pile on the floor. Her white underdress remained, blowing softly as the curtains did thanks to the breeze. She walked towards the balcony, leaning her elbows on the terrace wall. Jory followed, resting his arms on the terrace wall beside her. She turned her head and kissed him longingly and he did not expect this. Eleonora and Jory had been lovers for years, but the affection they shared was usually left in the bedroom (or the godswood, or the stables, or thrice in Maester Luwin's cupboard). It had only been lately, since Bran's terrible fall that Eleonora had begun to show a different sort of warmth towards Jory. It was of respect, adoration, and appreciation instead of lust that drew her to kiss Jory so unexpectedly. The support and loyalty she had witnessed Jory display over the last month could never be forgotten. She had always regarded him as a good man, a loyal friend, and more than capable lover, but he was slowly becoming more than that. Though Eleonora welcomed the warm feelings, she also feared them as they were so foreign to her.
"What was that for?" he smiled, finally breaking their lip lock.
"I don't know," she grinned. "I'm just glad you're here."
He leaned in and kissed her sweetly, "As am I, my lady."
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A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I appreciate each and every one of my readers. Thank you for sticking with me! With Season 6 in full force, I hope to find some more inspiration to update more often if anyone is still reading:)
New Chapter Reviewer Shout Out: Thanks to Mallory Thorn - your review was lovely, and I appreciate your kind words and just for reading:)
(I'm going to start doing a shout out to reviewer after every new chapter:))
PS: I used a bit of the book in this chapter just because I know a majority of readers haven't read the books and incorporating certain scenes is important to the story. Please don't complain. Excuse any typos for now:)
Coming Soon: Eleonora's handmaiden is a glimpse of home, Sansa and Eleonora meet Petyr Baelish, King Robert has orders for Jaime, King's Landing is exactly what everyone expected...
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