A/N: Here's an update for you guys! I hope to have the next one done soon. On another note, I need to find a beta reader soon, am almost missing several of the mistakes I make, and I get nervous about my plot points sometimes.

Arya hated the dress she was in. It seemed that the dress was sized completely wrong. It was too tight around her chest, making it hard to breathe. It was made worse by the fact that Sansa had told her that it was actually loose for that type of dress. The seamstress had escorted her from her room to the entrance to the Great Hall from the passage toward the Great Keep.

Her Lord Father was standing there, in a grey doublet trimmed with white. He looked dignified, strong, an aura of power seemed to radiate off him in this way. The King was there in his own black doublet with a yellow trim. Without his extra clothes that he had ridden in, the King no longer looked quite as fat as he had when he arrived, and while he still had a potbelly, he looked much more like the 'Demon of the Trident' that her father had told stories about for years.

Beyond the King was the Queen, dressed in a silk red dress that had golden stitching, a jeweled tiara glittering in her hair, drawing the attention to her as the light reflected off her tiara. Standing next to her was the Prince Joffrey, who was wearing a red tunic trimmed with gold, as was the Prince Tommen. Not far to the right was the Princess Myrcella, now wearing a black dress with golden trimming. Arya's own mother was wearing a grey dress with white trimming, along with stripes of red and blue along the sides.

The same design was borne by Sansa, but she had even more red and blue, almost seeming to drown out the grey and white in her dress. Of course, Sansa was just beaming at Prince Joffrey, so no one paid much attention. Robb, Bran, and Rickon were all dressed in suitable grey and white tunics. Edwyle was standing in a grey tunic with a green outline, paying homage to his mother. Little Lyarra was wearing a grey dress with blue and green stitchings as she clung to Edwyle's leg. The two of them were with their father, her uncle Benjen Stark, who had come south from the Wall to speak with her father.

Of course, that left only one guest that was to be there missing. Arya looked about but couldn't find him. She was about to ask when she felt something brush her back. Looking behind her, she saw , or as she often called him, Ned, wore a black tunic with a yellow trim, and his hair was close trimmed to his head. He stood almost level with Arya, making him nearly a head shorter than his brother Joffrey. His cheeks and eye shape certainly looked like it came from his mother, whereas in nearly every other way he looked like a tiny version of his father. However, the main area where he differed was in his left eye. While his right eye was azure blue, the same as the King's, his left eye was a rich lilac, the colour that the stories always said about the dragon kings of old.

"It's really soft." he said quietly. Arya sighed.

"It's really tight, though." she replied.

"It's so easy to avoid that happening... why would they put you in a dress that won't do anything for you." While most ladies would take offence at that, she knew he meant none. He rarely intended to offend anyone. Any further conversation was interrupted by the King loudly clearing his throat.

"Ned..." he began, and both her father and Edric looked at him. "No, not you, Edric, Ned Stark. Seven Hells, this will get confusing."

Her father nodded, before explaining everyone else would enter in. They lined up, her father waved, and the doors to the Great Hall opened. Edric took Arya's arm, and started forward behind his brother.

The feast hall was filled with men and women sitting at the tables, with the food in the middle of the table. Arya looked around at them, all looking at the Royal Family. Looking around, she saw Jon sitting at one of the lower tables with the squires. He gave her smile, and she smiled back. Looking at the boy escorting her, she saw him frown in Jon's direction, before quickly dropping it and smiling at her. Feeling heat rising in her face, she quickly turned away. She hated it when that happened. She had told him that before, yet he still continued to do that stupid, yet adorable, smile. It made him seem completely innocent.

They ascended to the high table, while her parents, the King, and the Queen ascended to the table set on the dias. Of course, she was to sit next to the boy she was paired with for the feast. The King stood up on dias then and announced the start of the feast with a toast to her father. When he finished, the feast began. After eating for a second, Edric began to speak.

"You know, Sansa was gloating earlier that she might be betrothed to Joffrey." he said. Arya swallowed her food before turning to look at him.

"I know, I was there when she was." she said. "I hope that if he does marry her, he has a very good steward. She can't run a household... she was never good at her sums."

"Aye. But since he'll be King, he can hire any person he wants to be his Steward." Edric said. Arya smiled. She liked it when he started to open up in conversation. It made him seem more... there.

"Are you sure he won't be Queen? Switch out the tunic for a dress and he would look like a Princess." Arya replied. The two of them shared a giggle at that.

"Do you really think our fathers will go through with... with the betrothal?" Edric asked, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

"I don't think my father wants to accept, but I know mother will want him to. Being the mother of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... nothing would please her more... mayhaps me behaving like a Southron lady." Arya replied.

"But most ladies in the south are just so boring." Edric whined loudly. "My cousin Cassana practices using daggers all the time. Myrcella is allowed to practice with a weapon all she wants because she is a Princess. Other than those two I don't know any Southern ladies who aren't boring in every way."

"Princess Myrcella uses weapons?" she asked.

"Yeah. You might see it while we're here, you might not. She doesn't show it, she usually has her nose buried in a book or a cyvasse game. She shows it, too. She often speaks the Southern Westerlands Tongue, but does speak the Vale's Tongue fluently. She's dabbled in the Northern Westerlands dialect, the Storm Tongue, the Reach's main language, High Valyrian, and what you speak here in the North, but none of those she can speak fluently, and can only use basic sentences in a few and only words in others." Edric said.

"Wow... I wish I could be like your sister." Arya said.

"Don't tell her that. Myrcella hates it that so many idolise her. She wants to just be left in peace. She has received a number of marriage offers, all of which father has turned down because she complained about it." Edric said solemnly. Arya frowned. She supposed she could understand. So many looking up to you, when all you want to do is continue on with life. Myrcella was only one and ten, still a child, and yet getting many marriage offers just for that.

"Well, to take our minds off this," Arya said, taking a scoop of beef stew with her spoon. "Think I can hit Sansa in her face from here?"

"Um... sure. I'll give you a gold dragon if you do." Edric said, watching out of the corner of his eye. Arya smiled and launched the beef stew right at her sister. It hit dead on the mark, sliding down her cheek and onto her dress.

"Arya!" her sister had cried, with a horrified look on her face. Ned and her on the other hand, couldn't stop laughing.

"After the feast." he whispered. Arya then looked away from her sister and down at the table, before grabbing another scoop of stew and tasting it herself. It tasted like victory.

A/N: Review please!