Stannis stares at the little girl, facing him while he is sit at his desk, in his room in Winterfell. Arya stares back, not impressed at all by the King. She has lived too many things to be impressed by whomsoever now. She doesn't feel fear, or anguish.
He examines her: the little Stark came back with Davos, the Martells and Rickon Stark. She was starving and, as soon as she was fed and that she had a bath, she put on boys's clothes. If he didn't know they were sisters, he would never guess Sansa and her have the same parents. Sansa does her hair as Margaery, wears beautiful dresses she mostly sew herself. Arya loves boys's things: fighting, doing archery. One of the first things she has done when she was in Winterfell was training with Jon. Stannis had watched her: she was gifted. Very gifted. Swift and precise, she must have had a very good combat instructor. Shireen was watching her too, clearly admiring the little girl, which Stannis disapproved. Arya Stark, despite what she wanted, was the daughter of a Lord. And thus, she had duties.
Stannis clears his throat and she opens her mouth to talk but he interrupts her:
"I have talked with your brother. I intend to betroth you to the son of Garlan Tyrell…"
"What?" Arya does, pulling a face.
Stannis, not used to be interrupted, grinds his teeth. In the room, Jon and Margaery exchange a knowing look and bite their lips to not laugh.
"I don't want to marry!" the girl exclaims. "I want to fight!"
"You are the daughter of a Lord. You have duties and…"
"My father already told me that! That did not change my mind. You think you will change my mind?!" she shouts.
A simple look from Stannis makes her go quiet. He clenches his jaw and tries to remain calm. He knows the girl is peculiar, everybody told him about her, but he is her King and she has to obey him.
"I think you need to grow up, Lady Stark."
"I am no…" she starts but he shouts in turn:
"Yes, you are a Lady! You are the daughter of the governor in the North! Your brother Robb is dead! Your brother Jon is a bastard! Rickon will rule Winterfell when he will be old enough but he is too young for now! Grow up! You have to marry, as your sister has to. This is your duty, as it was mine to marry Lady Florent and, later, lady Tyrell. This is how families remain alive, and prosperous. With alliances. I think you are clever enough to understand that fact, right, Lady Stark?"
Arya stares at him, and she bites her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She is not scared, not even angry, she is just disappointed. Terribly disappointed. He keeps staring at her, and she stares back, though feeling tears filling her eyes. Deep down, she knows he is right. She knows she has to marry, have children who could have her parents's names. But, still, she feels she has a right to be happy too. If only she could choose her husband, at least… That's why, suddenly, she has an idea. She slightly bows and says:
"As you command, your Grace. But, I wish I choose my husband."
Stannis raises an eyebrow:
"Do you have someone in mind?"
Arya holds back a triumphant smile:
"Gendry."
Stannis turns to Jon, who slightly shrugs, indicating he does not know who she is talking about:
"Gendry Baratheon", Arya says again and everybody looks up at her, surprised.
The King has understood, though, and sighs:
"One of Robert's bastards."
Arya nods:
"I heard you have already seen him. It will be him. Or no one."
"You cannot marry a bastard."
The young girl shrugs:
"Then make it official he is your brother's son."
Stannis grinds his teeth again:
"And where is this boy?"
"Last time I saw him, he was with the Brotherhood without Banners. He was their blacksmith."
"Ned Stark's daughter marrying a blacksmith…" Stannis shakes his head.
"No Lord could handle me, your Grace"
He stares at her intently, before a slight smile roves on his lips:
"No. I guess no one can."
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Stannis walks in the children's room: it is dark, and everybody is asleep. Except him. He just left his room, where he has written the official recognition of Gendry as a Baratheon. It was hard for him to accept it but, somehow, his aim is fulfilled: his blood will marry a Stark. All the families are building alliances with each others. When he will sit on the Iron Thrones, there will be peace, everywhere in the realm. One thing he still does not know is what he will do with Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. The children have nothing to do with their parents's sins, they are just children. Well, he has time to think about it, he thinks. He opens the door of the room, walks in silently, and stops by the two cradles. The twins are in the same one, the other one empty. Stannis shakes his head softly: Margaery did that. She keeps saying they sleep better when they are together. Margaery has immediately wanted to breastfeed them, she refuses that they have a wet nurse. Oberyn has told Stannis she reminded him of his sister, Elia. He smiles at the souvenir, staring at his children, fast asleep, wondering if the Lannisters were like that when they were babies. What could possibly happen to those children so they do such a monstrous thing? He shivers at the thought his children could become like them and suddenly resolves himself to never let them become too close, shall he send them away from each others. He wonders how Tywin never saw anything, him who was such a clever and smart man. He will never be like that, he promises himself. Lost in thoughts, he needs a moment to realize one of the twins has woken up and is staring at him with bright brown eyes. He tries to smile but he feels it looks more like a wince. The baby holds his little hand at him and Stannis clumsily takes him in his arms. Immediately, the baby looks for milk, rummaging his nose against Stannis's chest, and starts whimpering when he realizes it's not his mother. Careful with not waking Ryanne up, Stannis walks out of the room, holding the boy. Trying to calm him down, he whispers:
"I take you to your mother, Davos."