For the next few days, Arya mostly kept to her bedchamber. Jaime made no protests about her walking down to the great hall for meals as long as she agreed to get plenty of rest. She didn't like it, but she complied, mostly because she wasn't feeling well enough to not rest anyway.

On the fifth day, Arya was feeling much more like herself. She went down to the great hall for breakfast and found Ser Jaime there with a parchment in hand, looking unhappy.

"What's that?" She asked, taking a seat across from him.

"Business for the lord of Casterly Rock." He said evasively.

Arya glared at him. "If I'm going to marry you, you might as well know that I'm not going to be one of those wives. The ones that are too stupid and obedient to have ever have a say in what happens in their own home. If you won't tell me what's in the message, I'll find out some other way." She said, taking some fruit from the bowl on the table.

"You're forgetting that we aren't married yet. Once we are, I'll be sure to keep you up to date on all the happenings of the castle." He said, irritated.

"You could get a head start by telling me what's in the message." She said.

"You'll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I'm curious how you think you're going to obtain the information without my telling you?"

She shrugged. "Some of your men think I'm pretty enough. If I really wanted to know something I could trade for information easily enough."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "You would do that after what was done you by my father's men and even after you were married?"

"You were the one who said I could take a lover." She grinned.

"I suppose I did." Jaime said, though now that he thought about he knew he was uncomfortable with the idea. "But I know other women who said they never wanted a man to touch them again after they were raped. I didn't expect…"

"I would rather not resort to that." Arya said. "And I won't have to if you'll keep me informed."

"So are you offering me some sort of compromise here?" Jaime said trying to conceal his irritation. "That you'll remain faithful if I give you equal rule of the castle?"

She seemed surprised by the question. "Is that even an option?"

His eyes met hers. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps, but only if I am willing to be bedded?" She asked, a mixture of worry and defiance.

"Arya, I would be gentle with you…"

She only stared at him, fear in her eyes. "You were right. I would rather never have a man touch me again."

He nodded understanding. "Then what was the point in all the talk of seduction?"

"Just tell me what's in the damned message!" She exclaimed.

At that he laughed. "It only says that my father will be arriving for the wedding in a fortnight."

"And that saddens you because…?"

"I would rather not see him." Jaime said.

Arya glared at him again. "I'd give anything for a chance to see my father."

"Your father wasn't Tywin Lannister." Jaime quipped.

"I suppose not." She agreed. Then she grinned. "I wonder what he'll do when he finds out his cupbearer was Arya Stark?"

"Probably have someone hanged for it." Jaime said.

"Probably." She agreed again.

Near the end of that week, Arya took her sword out to the practice yard and sought someone to spar with. It was Ser Hiram who finally agreed to it. He was a younger knight, twenty three years old and was pretty good with a blade. Jaime watched with fascination as Arya all but danced circles around him in the Braavosi style. She was good. She was very good. It made him wonder why she hadn't been trying harder to escape. She probably could have killed the men outside her door without too much trouble but making it out the front gate and the twelve men who stood guard there would have been more of a challenge. Even so, there were times of busyness when the gate wasn't watched so closely. Maybe she could escape if she really wanted to. Or maybe she was planning to kill her husband later. He had no way of knowing.

Arya beat Ser Hiram several times and he beat her a few times as well. When she finally left the training yard she was covered in mud and sweat. Her hair was a wreck and with the breeches she was wearing she didn't look a bit like a lady and yet somehow she was more beautiful than any lady he had seen in a long time.

"That was well fought." Jaime commented before she could go past him.

Her eyes narrowed as if she were suspicious of any compliments. "Aren't you going to take a turn? I haven't seen you sparring at all since I've been here."

"There's a reason for that." He held up his golden hand.

"You can't fight with your left hand?" The question was tinged with realization.

"Not really, no." He told her.

"No wonder you're so determined to see this marriage through. If I were the best swordsman in the seven and then I couldn't fight and all I had left was being someone's wife…" She looked at him with pity.

"Arya don't. Don't look at me like you feel sorry for me." He said, barely concealing his anger.

"I don't feel sorry for you. I think you're an idiot." She said.

"What?"

"You heard me! If you think that marriage and a castle and heirs are going to make up for what you've lost, you're wrong. If you think that making your father proud is going to replace your hand, you're wrong about that too. The only thing that can fix not being able to fight, is learning to fight again. So either go hide in the castle and feel sorry for yourself, or take out your fucking sword and fight me!" She shouted at him.

"Fine." Jaime said with gritted teeth. He followed her into the practice yard and drew his sword.