Chains
More ladies arrived the next day, much to Sansa's delight. Arya arrived in her sister's room in the morning and found her squealing with delight next to their lady mother.
"The Tyrells are arriving from Highgarden!" She smiled. "Who all is coming?"
"I believe Lady Olenna travels with her niece and nephew, Margaery and Ser Loras. I know not of who else they travel with but-"
"But they're sure to have a grand caravan, and a whole party of ladies and knight riding with it!" Sansa interrupted.
Catelyn smiled calmly, "Lady Olenna is known to keep her family close."
"They're coming for the King's tournament? Ser Loras will surely compete."
"The Knight of Flowers?" Arya asked, finally managing to get a word in.
"Yes." Sansa replied, her voice showed not a hint of disdain for her sister, for once. "He'll compete, as will both the Princes, and several other knights and lords coming in from the surrounding lands."
"And we'll sit and watch as we always do." Arya said tiredly, sitting opposite her mother.
"What else would you want to do?" Sansa asked. "Compete?"
"Why not? I could do it! I'd at least beat Joffrey." She muttered.
"Prince Joffrey." Catelyn corrected while Sansa shouted over her telling Arya to not be so stupid.
"Don't believe me?" Arya taunted, "Clearly you've yet to see him in the practice yard. Or did you forget what happened at Winterfell?"
Sansa thought of Lady and went quiet. "I couldn't forget that." She said.
Arya felt terrible now, and Catelyn was at a loss for worst. She wrapped her arm around her older daughter and stroked her hair as she rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Arya, now feeling every bit as dumb as Sansa believed her to be, simply got up and walked away.
As she walked silently down the halls of the Keep, trying to shake the morning from her mind, Arya heard shouting and followed it out to the practice yard.
Below she found the newly arrived Ser Loras, his hair golden and curly, his stance perfect as he wielded his sword around Lancel Lannister's. From her perch above it was all Arya could do not to spit on that boy. Although she could smile at the purple and blue bruises now covering his jaw.
And the man who'd put them there, Gendry, he stood only a few feet away, watching the duel and talking to a few men she didn't recognize. She watched him for a moment as he examined the man's sword, and compared it to the war hammer he held is his hand. He said something that made the man laugh. He smile back in return. He only stayed a moment longer, then he was swept away by one of the gold cloaks, off to attend to some future-king duty or another.
She stayed where she was, watching as Lancel soon conceded the match to Loras and made way as Joffrey stepped in to challenge the knight.
Ser Loras looked nervous, though Arya wasn't sure why. Tales of Loras Tyrell's skill and cunning in a match reached the North frequently and Arya had longed to see him in a fight. Though not against Joffrey, who she was knew was as useless with a sword as he was with everything else.
She watched as Loras' eyes trailed nervously up to the balcony, across the way from where she was standing. Her eyes followed his and landed on who she could only assume was Margaery Tyrell. The girl stood with a trail of ladies on either side of her, all staring excitedly down into the training yard. Margaery looked down at her brother, her eyes narrowed and her smile titled coyly upwards. She nodded subtly and Loras looked away, grimacing at the ground before slowly lifting his sword.
They sparred, but Loras' skill was nothing like the stories said. His steps seemed clumsy, and his movements looked slow. Arya saw moments of hesitations, steps he didn't take, swings he missed by miles; there was a hesitancy in his movements. He was losing on purpose. Margaery watched with repressed vigour, her hands wrapped firmly around the bannister of the balcony, as she watched the fight below.
Loras dodged an advancing blow and Joffrey looked surprised. Arya's eyes trained in on everyone in the yard: the two men fighting, the three men watching, and the ladies standing above them. She scoffed, they all knew. They knew Loras was losing on purpose, they knew Joffrey couldn't win on his own. And they were all just playing along.
"It's more than just a duel in the practice yard." A voice next to her said. Arya turned and found Margaery Tyrell, with her minx like smile, standing next to her. Her smile quickly changed as Arya registered her words, turning from coy to genuine. "This is how our families will bond. The boys with their swords, and us ladies with... our own version of swordplay."
"And what would that be?" Arya asked, looking into Margaery's cool brown eyes.
Their eyes were diverted away as the clashing of swords came to a halt, followed by a loud bellow of "I yield!"
Loras had dropped his sword to the ground, his hands were raised above his head and Joffrey held his sword up to his chest arrogantly, a smug smile covering his lips.
"We have our games." Margaery said, turning away from Arya and raising her hands in applause, her ladies followed suit. The sounds of their clapping caused Joffrey to lower his sword and raise his eyes. He stared up at Margaery in awe as she spoke, "Well done, your grace. I've seen very few men best my brother over the years, but surely you were the best of them!"
Arya could barely stop her eyes from rolling back into her skull. But Joffrey ate up every word.
"Thank you, my lady!" He called up, "When I win the tournament I shall name you my Queen of Love and Beauty."
"I would be honoured to be your Queen." Was her reply.
Joffrey smile at her one last time before turning back his cousin's congratulations.
"Only some of us know how to play." Margaery said, her eyes shifting back to Arya's.
Arya knew exactly what she was doing, she was far from subtle, and she decided to respond in kind. "You play whatever kind of games you wish," She said, turning on her heels as she prepared to storm off. "I find I'm quite handy with a sword when I find a reason to use it." That would teach Margaery to try and steal the life Sansa wanted. She might not approve of Sansa's choices, but she wasn't about to let some Southron flower take them from her. That was Arya's job, after all, as her sister.
"And Prince Gendry is 'Your Grace', Joffrey is simply 'Your highness'". Arya corrected, surprising herself with her words. How did she know that? And more importantly, why in the seven hells did she care how the Tyrell girl referred to any of those stupid boys?
Margaery's smile never faltered as Arya's eyes narrowed, her head tilting up to look into the older girl's eyes.
"Oh I like you, you are marvelous!" Margaery singsonged.
Arya, now unsure of how to respond, simply scowled and walked away.
The days were growing long and boring with less and less to do. She'd begun to climb the walls, literally, as her brother Bran had always been so fond of doing in Winterfell. Though she knew her mother would disapprove. At least the impending excitement of the tournament was starting to liven up the castle.
She heard voices and stopped her steps. They were ones she recognized, and so she hid. Her father and the King and the rest of the small council were adjourning from their meeting, and following in their wake, his voice ringing out clear in the conversation, was Gendry.
"All I'm saying is, so long as there is no immediate threat to the East, I propose we hold off on any course of action." He said.
Gendry stood to one side of the king while her father walked on his other side, nodding his head slowly. "A wise course of action. And you'd be wise to follow your son's advice Robert." Ned said.
The King sighed and looked up tiredly between his friend and his son. Arya, not wanting to be seen, ducked behind a pillar and continued to listened, "Of course he's right." Robert said, clapping a large hand on his son's shoulder. "He's a good boy, with a strong head on his shoulders. He's a man. And we'll listen to what he has to say. Hold off on any course of action for now, but I still want reports from the Bear on what is happening across the way."
"Of course." The Spider replied, bowing his head before scurrying off.
The council dissipated each to their own end of the castle. Until it was only Gendry and Ned left, standing outside the doors.
"You handle yourself well in there. You know what you want and how to command enough authority to achieve it, that's good." He said.
"Thank you, my lord. I just want to do what is fair, what's right by everyone." Gendry said. "And attacking some woman I've never seen, someone who is barely enough to consider a threat, that's not right for anyone. Besides, I'd like to see what threat she poses to others before showing my own hand."
"A wise move. What's even more impressive is you got your father to agree with you."
Gendry chuckled. "I've gotten used to his ways. I'm quite good at dealing with stubborn people."
Ned laughed. The sound felt unfamiliar to Arya's ear.
"Speaking of the stubborn..." He said, turning the two of them in the other direction.
They continued to talk for some time and Arya noticed how friendly they seemed together. She wondered who her father saw more of in the Prince: a young Robert, or her brother Robb? A perhaps, a bit of Jon as well.
She heard the word "Tourney" enter the conversation and her ears perked up and her feet slipped along the stone floor, failing to grasp purchase in their newfound excitement.
Ned's eyes lifted and Arya ducked away from their view, her back slamming into the pillar.
"Who's there?" He called out. "Arya?"
Arya held her breath and shut her eyes.
"Arya?" Gendry's voice rang. His footsteps slowly moved closer.
Hugging the wall, Arya tiptoed away and around the corner, speeding silently down the hall until she felt a hand tearing at the pale skin on her arm.
"Where are you running off to?" Septa Mordane crowed, Sansa and Catelyn at her side. "It's time for tea."
When she turned she found Gendry and her father standing at the other end of the hall watching her. Suddenly she was all too happy to be taken off to tea.
Margaery smiled as the Stark ladies entered the room and rushed up to greet them. Introductions were made and Margaery rushed forward, folding her arm over Sansa's.
"I've already met your lovely sister earlier this morning," She said, causing the Stark ladies to turn their heads at the unusual description of Arya. "But I'd be so delighted if you'd sit next to me for tea."
Sansa's eyes glowed with excitement and Catelyn smiled as the two girls bounced off as if they were already the best of friends. Arya remained by her mother's side. "When did you meet Lady Margaery?" She asked, eyeing Arya carefully.
"Earlier," She shrugged. "In the practice yard."
"Arya," Catelyn warned.
"What? She was there too, so were all her ladies and cousins and whatnot!" She argued.
"Yes, but unlike you she wasn't there sizing up her opponents."
Are you sure of that? Arya thought. Across the room she could see Margaery watching Sansa carefully as she gushed over life in the city. There was something in the Tyrell girl's eye.
"Sit." Catelyn commanded, pointing to the empty chair at the other end of the table. "Today you will practice being a lady and tonight you will attend the feast and practice again. Gods help us Arya you will behave for one day. You can't escape this place forever."
Arya grimaced and played along for a while, though she didn't do so happily. She only did so because of the tiredness in her mother's voice. She saw twenty forks in front of her and didn't know what to do with a single one. She and Catelyn both sighed.
At the other end of the table, secrets were being shared.
"So she doesn't know at all?" Margaery asked Sansa.
"No, my lord father feels it's not best to tell her right now," she looked down at her hands. "He always lets her do whatever suits her best because she's Arya."
"Well it's hardly in her best interest to have a marriage sprung onto her." Margaery argued. "Have you thought of telling her yourself? It might be best to hear this kind of news from a sister, someone she's to whom she feels close, connected."
"That would hardly be me." Sansa said with a laugh. "Besides, I agree, she's not ready. She's not ready for anything."
Margaery smiled and placed her hand on Sansa's "It's so nice of you to look out for her. I've three brothers, and my cousins are lovely girls but I can't count the number of times I've wished for a sister of my own," Margaery ducked down, trying to meet Sansa's eye. "Someone to understand me, confide in me, and take care of me." Sansa smiled meekly and looked away. "Not always of course," Margaery said, mending her speech. "Sisters fight, same as brothers. But we always do what's best for each other. Family is too strong a bond." She shrugged and sipped her wine. "I find that to be true, at least."
Sansa bit her lip nervously and glanced across the table. Catelyn was tucking a strand of hair behind Arya's ear while instructing her on the proper way to fold a cloth in her lap. Arya looked as though she was in pain. Sansa gulped from her glass and placed it with a shaking hand back on the table, then turned to Lady Margaery and begged for a story of Highgarden.
After she'd left tea, Arya had spent the afternoon wandering the castle and its grounds. She'd already discovered plenty of hiding places and secret passageways, but she liked to revisit them. She knew three separate ways out of the castle grounds, one of which she was almost positive would lead her to the road North, and back home.
But she hadn't taken that road just yet.
She could't shake the conversation she'd heard between Gendry and her father. Sansa and Gendry's engagement had yet to be announce, but Arya knew it was imminent. And knowing this she'd never stopped to ask herself why Sansa had bothered to develop an interest in Joffrey, especially since the boy was such a cretin, and after hearing their conversation today she now had to wonder why Gendry had bothered with her as well.
She didn't like how she suddenly felt as though she'd been trotted out as a piece in their games. Like Sansa and Gendry were in some strange dance of attraction. Is this was almost married couples did? Pick any other person and trot them around in front of the other, making a show of "Look who I can charm! Look who I can make smile!" Was she a challenge that he had won? She'd been too open with him, too candid. She'd been too willing to become his friend. No one in King's Landing wanted friends, that much had been obvious to her from the start, they were all so horribly fake. Only Gendry was different. Gendry was like her, angry and stubborn and eager for a fight. And the night before in the Great Hall, when that pure white hot rage had taken over, she knew that feeling well, and knew that when it took her over, only the truth could spill from her lips. She thought the same was true of him. She thought they were friends. But perhaps he was just the best actor of them all. He was a Southroner, and she trusted them least of all.
The thought angered her terribly. She knew the road home, she could take it alone. They couldn't toy with her any longer.
Her hand gripped the skirt she'd been stuck in all day. Toying with me? She thought. You sound like a stupid girl. What's got you so caught up in their games? You can't blame them for what you let happen. Arya cursed herself, for thinking she had a friend, for thinking someone was different, for letting herself be fooled. No more.
Instead, she found herself hiding outside of the feast. She stood in the doorway, watching them all, studying. Their voices were all so loud with overplayed excitement.
The long table at the end of the room accommodated the royal family and their honoured guests. King Robert and the Queen sat at the centre, her parents on either side of them. Arya watched the Queen with her restrained smiled and poorly concealed contempt. She's not half so beautiful as they all sing about. Arya could barely remember the King and Queen's visit to Winterfell, but Sansa had taken the time to remind her that Queen Cersei was the most beautiful woman in the land. Arya said she didn't really care and Sansa had laughed. "Of course," her sister had jested. "Why would beauty matter to you?"
Tonight Cersei's face looked sour and her posture was so tight she must've been in pain sitting at that table, surrounded by all these people.
Now Sansa was sitting with Jeyen Poole, at Catelyn's side. Together they eyed the two princes next to Cersei and whispered about them from behind their palms. Their eyebrows wiggled with girlish suggestion. Arya rolled her eyes as she could practically hear the sound of Jeyne's envious complimenting of Sansa "Oh, I'm sure they're both already in love with you!" It made Arya sick.
Joffrey sat to Cersei's right, which Arya found curious since Gendry was the older boy, and the future king, but he sat to his brother's side and next to him was his sister Myrcella, and next to her, Tommen. The two younger Baratheon children were smiling gleefully as their Uncle Tyrion, the Imp, laughed with them. He looked as if he was telling a joke or a story, his eyes wide and his hands waving, emphasizing each word. Gendry seemed to be listening too for when Tommen and Myrcella broke out in fits of laughter, Gendry choked on the wine he'd brought to his lips. Tyrion smirked at his nephew as Joffrey took a moment from his conversation with his mother to glare at his siblings.
She would've been happy to sit there staring all night. Watching the royal family, weighing and judging them, off all on her own without having to sit among them, where everyone else could observe her. In Winterfell she's enjoyed so many feasts, sat at the lowers tables with her siblings, joking and japing, with only Sansa's disapproving eyes on her, or her mother's urgent glance, a signal to her brother's to take her up to bed.
Here, she was on display, and everyone was free to judge. She had always thought Sansa and Jeyne were bad but compared to the gossiping ladies, and lords, and lowborns, working and residing inside the Red Keep's walls, Sansa and Jeyne seemed like quiet little mice.
Arya's ears barely registered the scraping of a chair before she felt a hand tug her am harshly, dragging her away from the safety of the shadows, further into the room. No, no no no, please no, She thought as Septa Mordane forcefully escorted her to her seat next to her sister. As she passed below the Lanniser's side of the table she scowled at Gendry, who was standing and watching her walk, "Sit down." She whispered angrily when she past by him. Her septa gripped her arm tighter. The eyes of all the ladies scattered throughout the hall were narrowed at the hem of her skirt, and the two inches of mud that caked it. Arya scoffed and flipped her skirt around gracelessly before sitting down with a huff.
"You're unbelievable." Sansa said through a forced smile, though it dropped completely when she too noticed the state of Arya's skirts. The sight of her eyes wide and her jaw dropped gave Arya more pleasure than it should have. She took a moment to flash her muddy shoes at Sansa which brought her into a full on giggle and when she looked up she found Gendry laughing with her. Arya's mouth snapped tightly shut and she stared at him for a moment, still unsure of what exactly the young prince was playing at.
Last night as she'd walked her back to her room she'd taken off her shoes and let her bare feet scrape along the the red stones. She wasn't sure what to think about Prince Gendry.
Her eyes floated up the table, Joffrey was staring at her hem too, eyes wide with disgust, and Cersei as well, although she could've sworn she saw the tiniest hint of something else in the Queen's eyes... appreciation, perhaps? Robert was drinking from his cup while her father leaned over and spoke in hushed tones to him. The King replied with a bawdy laugh, though it seemed Ned hadn't said anything remotely funny, and slammed his fist down onto the table.
"No sense in trying to tame a wolf, Ned!" He shouted, finally giving a distraction from the state of Arya's dress. "Let the feast continue on!"
She made it through the meal, now she sat in the Great Hall grateful to be the observer and not the observed. Sansa and several other ladies were laughing and dancing in the middle of the hall with a few knights and lords. Prince Gendry was dancing with his sister, while Lady Margaery and her friends cooed and giggled around little Tommen. Her father sat with his hand intertwined with Cat's. She smiled at her older daughter while he spoke with Lord Tyrion, who sat to his right.
Down on the lower levels, more Lannisters drank and laugh. Arya watched Lancel grimace as he lifted his cup to his mouth.
Though Arya saw them all she failed to notice the two standing behind her.
"I want her gone." Cersei said through gritted teeth, forcing a grimace to appear as a smile. It was a skill that had begun to fade.
"You want them all gone." Jaime said, shifting away from her, but only slightly.
They stood, half hidden by a column a the far end of the room. They both kept shifting back and forth, between uncomfortably close and not close enough.
Cersei turned to him, her eyes narrowed. "We both do."
Jaime sighed and narrowed his eyes at Robert, already half asleep, some girl with bright red cheeks and a jug of wine trying to escape his grasp as he pulled her onto his lap. He imagined Cersei there instead, imagined all the stories they'd shared about her relationship with the king. His teeth gritted. "Where do we start?"
Cersei's gaze followed his. "That comes later." She said. "First, I want her gone."
Jaime moved behind Cersei and stared over her shoulder at the back of the Stark girl's head. "Her? She's hardly a threat."
"Of course she's a threat." Cersei spat back at him. "She's not like her 'darling sister' Sansa." She said with mock-admiration. "She can't be moulded, guided... she can't be manipulated. But more importantly," She said, turning to the Tyrell's table. "I want her gone." Margaery sat there smiling and laughing, now joined by Myrcella and Sansa. "She's awful. She and that fossil of a grandmother of hers are planning something. She's an adversary, Arya is a little wilding in the making..."
"And the older Stark girl? What of Sansa?" Jaime asked.
"She can stay. I can control her."
"And how do you plan to keep one Stark girl and not the other?" Jaime challenged.
"Please, Arya's already halfway out of the Capital. Just a few more pushes and she'll be gone."
"And the Tyrells?"
Cersei contemplated the Tyrell house for a moment. Margaery, all smiles and doting glances was more clever than she let on. And Olenna Redwyne, who was clever and let everyone know it, was staring right at them, a minx like smile plastered on her ageing lips.
"Perhaps they can be pacified." She decided. Her eyes turned quickly to Gendry, her little mutant spawn. "I'll see if one problem can't solve another."
"What is going on in that head of yours?" Jaimed asked he moved closer and slid his hand across the flat of her stomach, letting it fall lower and lower.
"What are you doing?" Cersei hissed. "Not here."
His hand shot away immediately as Cersei searched the room for prying eyes. Olenna's gaze was thankfully now otherwise engaged.
"Tomorrow morning." She whispered to him and then straightened her gowns and herself and returned to the high table, next to Catelyn Stark, who smiled at her pleasantly and began to speak.
Jaime watched the Star girl another moment. Watched as she too scoped out the area around her, only to find no one was watching. Then she slid her chair back and turned. She walked right past him, unaware of his presence or probably just not caring about it, and out of the hall. Though one person did notice.
Prince Gendry said proper goodbyes and smiled diligently until he had turned away from the hall, then his smiled disappeared into a look of true determination. When he walked past Jaime, the Kingslayer couldn't help but call out.
"Evening, you Grace." Gendry jumped slightly and turned to face his uncle. "Off to escort Lady Arya to her chambers for the night? She didn't look like she was in need of assistance but it's kind of you to offer, nephew."
The young man smiled and laughed.
"It's true." He said. "She most likely doesn't need the assistance. Her sense of direction is quite good, which leads me to believe without some help she'll find her way all too well and be halfway to Winterfell by the time my father sobers up."
"Well," Jaime said. "We can't have that."
Gendry's smile grew, "No, we really can't."
"I suppose I'll help your search." He said. Gendry's smile faltered for a moment, and Jaime loved every moment of it as they searched the halls for the wild little Stark girl who would evade them until the sun began to appear over the sea.
Safe in bed, Arya had spent the night on the roof of the keep, until a yawn and an aching tiredness in her limbs forced her to the coziness of her chambers.
She kept running through moments in her mind.
Sansa was here to marry Gendry. Arya would become his good-sister, their babies would be her nieces and nephews. She and Joffrey would be family. Arya groaned. Gods save them all if she had to live in a world in which Joffrey Baratheon was her good brother but Jon Snow was just a bastard on a Wall.
Still she couldn't shake the confusion of the night before, in the Great Hall, with Gendry and his cousins. So quick to jump to her defence, not that she'd needed him to. She supposed that's just what he did for family, after all that's what she would become one day, soon. It's how she would defend Jon, should someone call him a bastard with her around, it's how she would defend Bran if anyone called him a cripple. She was fiercely loyal to her family and she could respect any one who was too.
Then why'd he fight his own family for you, some girl who he barely knows?
She pushed that thought aside only to let a new one drift into her mind...
Consolation prize.
What in the seven hells did Lancel mean by calling her that? It was obvious enough to her that given the choice between herself and Sansa, Sansa was the ideal. But Arya as no one's prize. She was not something to be won, and unlike Margaery Tyrell she was not anyone's Queen of Love and Beauty. She was something else entirely, and they would see that soon.