Arianna stared morosely down at the pale, unsmiling corpse of the late Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, the comfortable weight of her royal father's arm draped around her darkly garbed shoulders. She was not ashamed of the stinging, swollen eyes she sported, for many of the other beings in the room, common folk or highborn both, were equally as guilty of letting their emotions overcome them. The man that now lay unmoving before her, stones upon his eyes, the sweet scent of the oils that the Silent Sister's used to prepare the body rewarding her with a slightly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, had been and still was loved by many people, herself included.
She tried her hardest not to dwell on her painful past memories that included the former Lord of the Eyrie and Hand of the King as she tucked a strand of her glossy black hair behind her ears and burrowed deeper into her father's side.
His only reaction was to pull her in tighter.
It had been announced that the former Hand had passed away from natural causes, but it was so sudden that the entire event was strange and suspicious to Arianna. The thing that was most strange to her, was that Arianna hadn't even known that Jon Arryn had been sick. From what her father had mentioned to her about his death, he hadn't known anything about it either. She didn't believe that the second most powerful man in the entire kingdom was on his deathbed without her father having been informed, at the very least.
What had been publicly announced as "natural" seemed most "unnatural" to her.
Joffrey, having not had the same relationship with the former Hand of the King as his slightly younger sister did, looked bored as the packed sept listened to the High Septon recite passages and pray. The former Hand's widow, however, Lady Lysa Arryn of the Vale, eyed her family with something attune to suspicion. Ever since the death of her husband a few days prior, Lysa Arryn, formerly a Tully before she had been married off, easily distinguishable by her flowing auburn hair and blue eyes, had not so much as said a word about how she thought her husband had perished. Quite frankly, the widow had barely spoken to anyone at all, in exception to the young son that she shared with her deceased husband, Robin.
Arianna Baratheon pitied the poor boy. No matter how odd he certainly was, no one should have to go through the pain of burying their father so young.
But that was life, apparently.
When the wake for Jon Arryn had been concluded, the uneasy silence of the crowd continued as they filed out of the doors of the sept to continue their day. Her father, his usually jolly appearance offset by his bloodshot eyes and the deep purple rings underneath, pulled aside her Uncle Jaime and commanded him to lead the Queen, his oldest son, as well as Tommen and Myrcella back to the Red Keep, for he wished to speak to his eldest daughter alone.
When the last person had filed out of the doors of the Great Sept of Baelor, Arianna Baratheon and her father stood completely alone with the corpse of the man that her father had considered his own blood. Almost as if Robert Baratheon had been waiting to be given a moment to his own for days, he allowed a few tears to fall from his stormy blue eyes and roll down his usually colorful cheeks. Arianna felt her father shake slightly from her position tucked underneath his heavy arm, but remained silent as she allowed him to grieve. She knew that this short moment of weakness was something that he needed to keep himself together, but for the sake of the kingdom, he would never do this in sight of others to keep up appearances. Considering the circumstances, Arianna was flattered that she was one of the very few people in the entire world that her father would allow to see like he was at that moment: weak and exhausted to the bone. Her father was the King, the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms. The same man that had helped crush the Targaryen dynasty, was elevated to royalty, and rewarded with one of the most beautiful and wealthy women in the seven kingdoms as a wife: her mother. It was odd seeing someone in such a position of power so broken down.
If the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms could be reduced to what she was witnessing, truly no one was safe.
What seemed like hours had passed as Arianna stood listening to the soft sniffles of her father before he spoke, his voice raspy from crying. "What in the seven hells am I going to do now?"
Arianna sympathized with her father. Running a kingdom was difficult work, and it was naïve to believe that the entire process of decision-making was left only to the monarch. The king's council was also involved in court politics, as well as a number of others.
And the King had just lost one of his most trusted advisors, something that Arianna knew would destabilize the fluidity of everyday politics.
As her father glanced down to the young woman at his side, she realized that his question was not rhetorical and he was expecting an answer from her. To be honest, Arianna was slightly surprised that he was seeking her advice on how to proceed. Surely there were people better fit to be in this position than she? She answered him, regardless.
"The position of Hand obviously needs to be filled, or ruling will be difficult." Her father nodded silently, agreeing with his oldest daughter on that point. "It needs to be someone that you trust completely. Someone that you trust the realm to, trust your family to, trust your people to."
She moved to look up at the man who stood by her side. He seemed to think deeply about to advice she had just spoken, before his jaw set and he seemed to reach a consensus.
"Let's head back to the Keep, Anna. We're heading North."
...
As the royal procession neared the towering stone walls of what Arianna only suspected to be Winterfell, she couldn't help grinning, despite herself. The young princess rode alongside her eldest brother, who didn't look nearly as impressed as she did. To be honest, he looked miserable. Joffrey had considered the entire trip North to be a waste of his time, and as he was the heir to the throne, he was expected to ride on horseback and participate in the several hunts the King would be holding the entire trip rather than in the elaborate wagon that housed her mother and two younger siblings. Her Uncle Jaime never strayed too far away from the carriage, ready to defend her mother or Tommen and Myrcella from anything that would harm or threaten them. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, who had been loyal to her family for as long as she could remember, was keeping his own horse, Stranger, close to her family as well, in case of danger.
While her older brother longed to be warm and safe in the wagon with his mother and siblings, Arianna craved otherwise. She had begged her father to allow her to ride alongside him despite her gender and protests from the Queen. Her father knew that his daughter was no innocent little girl, that she knew how to defend herself thanks to the many melee and archery lessons that had been given by both himself as well as Jaime Lannister, so he had thankfully allowed it. It was her first time in the North, after all.
Dragon's Tooth bounced in it's sheath as Arianna brought her dark courser stallion, Vhagar, to a trot beside King Robert. She shared a forlorn smile with her father before returning her attention to the approaching walls of Winterfell as soft snowflakes began to fall from the sky. Somewhere within those walls waited Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and if her father had his way, the new Hand of the King.
They had finally arrived.
A/N: Okay, first of all, I'm so sorry about the delay. I was without Internet for a while, so I had no way to continue. But now I have constant access to Internet! I'm so glad to see that several of you guys are enjoying this story. If you guys have any ideas or questions, let me know! Chapter 3 will be up soon. Winterfell is next. :)