Arya's stitches were crooked. Again. She had asked the Septa to allow her to use her left hand, but she had refused. It was impious to the Seven, she said. According to her, those who were judged positively went to the Father's right upon being judged, whereas those who were judged negatively went to their left. Using the left hand was impious and should be met with scorn.
Of course, once the Septa had finished up her little tirade on the impiety of using one's left hand, Arya had left with the excuse of 'going to shoe a horse.' The Septa was lucky Ned had never heard that comment about her having the hands of a blacksmith, it probably wouldn't have ended well. She closed her eyes, briefly remembering Sansa's screams in the Godswood, her lying in the dirt.
That had been a disaster. Not Sansa getting hit, that was funny. But a guard had shown up not long after and-.
She took a deep breath. Thinking on that now would only cause more pain. She tried to think of happier thoughts, like the pups that her brothers had brought back a few months previous. Each of them were large enough to be considered full sized dogs now. Arya had gotten her pup from her father, who had carried her back to the castle. Nymeria, she had named her, after the warrior Princess. Of course, Ned just started calling her Nym, which drove Arya up the wall. Her wolf was not a little kid, she was a direwolf that deserved more respect than that nickname gave her.
Musing on this, Arya walked down the hallway, eventually tripping and crashing into a wad of blonde.
"Does anyone pay attention in this place?!" a voice yelled as Arya disentangled herself from the one whom she'd crashed into. When she looked at them, Arya was surprised to see the sea green eyes of the Princess Myrcella.
"Your Grace, I apologise, I was preoccupied w-" Arya started. She was gently shushed by the Princess, who put up her right hand at her. Their eyes calmly met each other's. Only one and ten and she was already a great beauty. Her eyes seemed to indicate… understanding almost.
"You are perfectly fine… Arya, wasn't it?" she asked, putting her hand down.
"Yes, that's my name." Arya replied.
"Well, I'm Myrcella. If you do not mind. You need not use my title when not around others." she smiled brightly and curtseyed. "Least I can do for my brother's only remaining friend." Arya's eye twitched at that. She hated being reminded of that, it always made her sad. "So you do know." She looked at Arya carefully, eyes narrowed. "Have you-"
"I've told no one." she replied quickly, hoping to get their minds off that subject quickly. "Septa Mordane asked after you, you weren't there today." The Princess giggled, then began laughing heartily. Her laughter almost made Arya want to laugh.
"I don't need to learn sewing, Ned says I'm good enough at it." Myrcella said, stopping her laughing.
"What about your parents? What do they say about it?" Arya asked. Ned never talked much about his family, after all. Myrcella's smile dropped, and she turned away, beckoning Arya to follow her. She did so, and they walked down the corridors, passing mostly servants who gave polite bows toward Myrcella. Once they were alone, Myrcella stopped.
"Mother doesn't pay much attention to anyone whose name isn't Joffrey." she said. "I did try to show Father once… he smiled and said it was pretty, then went back to rubbing a whore's teats. Better than I got out of Mother, at least. She didn't even look at it." Myrcella looked down at her feet.
"I spent nearly 3 years with mostly Ned and Addam. When other girls that were sent to King's Landing to befriend me talk about their fathers, most of the things they talk about are things that Ned does for me. He helped me up when I fell, carried me around, played with me when I wanted attention, compliments my good works, criticizes my less good..." she took a deep breath. "That's why I say I'm just a Baratheon. I don't care for my mother enough to call myself both a Baratheon and a Lannister."
"Of course, that hasn't matter as much re"- she continued, but a soft sound interrupted her.
"-and not a soul to hear." the soft singing sound came from down the hallway. Myrcella smiled brightly.
"He doesn't do this much, let's go!" Myrcella whispered excitedly, grabbing Arya's wrist and pulling her to the corner, peeking around the corner. Arya peeked around with the girl. Ned was sitting against the wall, spinning a stick in his hand.
"'Oh hear my call,' the lookout cried, his eyes upon the vale,I see sunlight upon armour, many riders on the trail,But still Lord Reyne of Castamere harped on his elegy'No Stripling boy, untried by arms, will play lord over me!'"
Suddenly he stopped and was staring at them. He blinked, then smiled lightly. "Seven Hells, 'Cella, I asked you not to spy on me."
"You sing?" Arya asked. The boy's face turned a shade of crimson as he tried not to meet her eyes.
"Please don't tell anyone. Singing is thought to be within a lady's purview amongst Southron nobility. I'd never hear the end of it." he begged.
"Don't worry about it, you silly stag." Arya said, offering her hand to help him up. "I already keep one of your secrets, you don't need to ask me to keep more." Ned's face dropped at that.
"Yeah… thanks." he said sadly, his eyes deliberately not meeting hers, as he took her hand and she helped him up. The three of them walked quietly down the halls toward northern part of the castle.
"I thought the boys were sparring in the courtyard today? Why aren't you there?" Arya asked Ned.
"I didn't want to go." he replied.
"But Ned! If you don't try, you'll never get better." Myrcella said.
"I do try, just not against the likes of Robb and Jon." Ned muttered. They stepped onto the covered bridge overlooking the courtyard. Jon was sitting on the sill, watching carefully. Looking out the window, Bran and Prince Tommen, covered head to toe in padding, went at it with their training swords. Tommen was quick and nimble but Bran was able to defend against the young Prince's strikes.
Of course, it was all for naught when Tommen feinted and tripped Bran with his foot as he stepped back. Bran fell hard on his back and caused a cloud of dirt to rise up around him. The men laughed at his display. Prince Tommen stood over him, his sword crossed over his shoulder, ready to strike Bran again once he regained his feet.
"Enough!" Ser Rodrik called. He gave Bran a hand and yanked him to his feet. "Well fought." He waved to two of the guardsmen. "Help them out of their armour."
"Do you see Prince Joffrey's coat of arms?" Jon asked. Arya hadn't, but she looked down at it and saw an elaborate divided coat of arms on his doublet, with a lion on one side and a stag on the other.
"Aye." Ned said, leaning against the wall next to the window. "He does call himself 'Prince Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister.' My mother's family is immensely proud of their name. She still uses the Lannister name, rather than the Baratheon one. If Joff had the choice, he'd just call himself a Lannister in all likelihood.
My brother is certainly proud of his crest, he spent several days and went through several seamstresses to get that emblazoned on his doublet properly."
Arya rolled her eyes. "You can say that again."
"Um… I didn't say anything?" he replied.
"Yes you did." she said. Myrcella and Jon looked at her like she was crazy, while Ned's eyes went wide and he began to back up. His facial expression was one of pure fear, something he seemed to never exhibit.
"Don't... say anything, just… just nod if you can hear me." he said shakily. She nodded carefully. His eyes widened intensely. "Oh no… no this cannot be happening! Why me?!" he screamed. Myrcella was looking rapidly back and forth between the two of them worriedly. "Oh no, I'm gonna worry 'Cella, everyone's gonna think I'm a freak again, I'm gonna be alone again, oh no..."
The boy turned and darted away, and Arya took off after him. He was darting in between corridors and around corners, yet she never lost him. More and more halls were passed, and Arya's breaths grew heavier, yet still she persisted. Eventually she came to a small room hidden away in the bowels of the castle.
Inside the room there was a small, locked trunk, and Ned was sitting curled on top of it, shaking and sobbing. She had barely even slowed down before charging over to him to wrapping her arms around him.
"You silly stag." she said calmly. "I won't leave you alone just like that; you're my friend."
"How can you be so sure... They always said that to me… and none still call themselves. ..my friends." he choked through sobs.
"The ones that are still alive may yet have forgiven you… recognized that it wasn't your fault that the others died." Arya said.
"But it was! If I hadn't ever known them… the goldcloaks wouldn't have… Mother wouldn't have..." he couldn't finish before the sobs came back in full force.
"Neither of which you were directly involved in. They should have recognized that by now. At least… if they were ever really your friends, they should have." she replied.
"I don't know… I haven't spoken with them in a year."
"Then go. Talk to them." Arya pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "Tell them everything. They have to understand, Ned."
"Maybe... " he muttered quietly, his eyes softening slightly. "Maybe" he repeated. Ned continued to remain curled up for what felt like several minutes, before finally unfurling and putting hanging his legs off the trunk.
"You won't be there to see." he said. "Lord Stark plans to bring Sansa and Bran south with him, your mother talked him out of taking you." Ned said, the tears beginning to subside.
"What?" Arya asked, shocked at the news, "Why would she abandon what she would see as an opportunity to get me to act like a Southron lady?"
"Me." he said simply.
"What do you have anything to do with it?" she asked.
"In your mother's eyes I am detriment to your lady like education. It shouldn't be all that bad. Sansa will be stuck in King's Landing with my brother, they will wed whenever she bleeds. The Circlehome should choose a new Elder Sister for the lady's education soon, and with the Septa in the south with Sansa, life should begin to improve for you." Ned explained.
The Circlehome was the main home of the clerics of the Gods, what her mother and other Southrons call the 'Old Gods.' They always renounced their family names upon joining. In light of this, they had family stylings as their titles. New members were Little Brother or Sister, and Full members were Elder Brother or Sister.
The Elder Sister that had been assigned to Winterfell's household had left little over a month ago to become a wandering Green Woman to spread stories of the Gods to others. Her uncle Benjen had considered joining before eventually deciding on a temporary stay in the Night's Watch.
"That's stupid… I want to act like a lady, but the Septa and the other girls keep making it so difficult!" she replied. She put her finger to her lips stilling any further conversation, she could hear a rapid clap clap of boots rushing over stone floors. She let go of Ned to face the door, fearful that someone had heard them. The next moment, Princess Myrcella and Jon came running around the corner.
"Arya! Ned!" the Princess all but yelled as she ran into the room. She stopped, before bending over, panting. "I've been looking everywhere for you two! I couldn't find you, so I ran back to the bridge and asked your brother there for help."
"I remembered the Prince running here once, and the Princess asked me for my help, I was bound to serve." Jon said."Besides, following the Princess around the castle is more enjoyable than watching Robb curse the Prince Joffrey for making him look like a child."
"Well let us hope that Robb doesn't actually curse him… mother would cast him out, she and the Septa abhor magic in any form." Arya japed lightly. That elicited a giggle from the other occupants of the room. After some brief talking, the group seperated, Arya returning to her room, Jon going off on his own, and Ned and Myrcella going to their family. When Arya finally arrived back at her rooms, she found the Septa waiting for her… with her mother. Life enjoyed kicking her when she was on the ground, it seemed.