Just a side note: I do not own any references in this chapter
Anyway, shall we proceed? Cue the Game of Thrones theme . . .
The joint Royal-Stark party had been riding for several days now. They were however, minus Myrcella. it had been arranged for her to serve as a handmaiden to Lady Catelyn a Winterfell. Cersei had been reluctant, but Robert and Ned both allowed it. Already, there was talk between them of betrothing the two, in order to further strengthen the ties between Stark and Baratheon.
Robert had called a halt now, probably to talk with Ned. As the two old friends were speaking, Steffon walked over to where Arya was playing around with a stick, practicing her swordplay. She seemed to have picked up a few things from watching Steffon spar with Robb and Jon at Winterfell.
"Hello there Arya. Practicing your swordfighting I see." He said.
"Yeah. I think I'm getting better, but I won't know for sure until I meet that Braavosi fighter you were telling me about." Arya responded.
"No need to worry there Arya; the one I hired was recommended to me by a friend."
"Well I'm glad to hear that. Hey, can I have a look at your sword?" She asked. Normally, Steffon would be rather reluctant, but Arya was his wife-to-be.
"Yeah why not?" Said Steffon, drawing his longsword from the scabbard at his waist.
"It's a little plain isn't it?" She asked.
"Arya, you know I'm not overly fond of decoration. I think you'll find however that it is quite masterfully made." He said, handing the sword to her. It was indeed well-made; it was perfectly balanced and actually fairly light for a longsword. Arya swung the sword through the air; she soon found out that while it was light, it was still slightly heavy for her.
"It's still heavy." She complained.
"That's because you're not strong enough yet, hence why I had a smallsword made for you." He responded. Arya nodded, handing the weapon back to him. "Would you um . . . like to go for a walk, Arya?" Steffon asked, nervously. Arya nodded eagerly; there were far worse people for her to be betrothed to. Steffon slid his sword back into the scabbard before going to notify Jory about what was happening, to which he told them to be back by nightfall.
So the two began wandering away from the column, Arya having changed from her much hated dress into a more comfortable tunic and breeches. Steffon meanwhile, was still wearing his padded armour and longsword strapped to his waist. As they were walking along, Steffon's hand idly slipped into Arya's, almost subconsciously. Arya thought about shaking her hand out, but decided against it. If they were going to make a go of this, then they had to make it a real one.
They continued walking hand in hand, eventually finding a small clump of trees. The two walked over to the tree clump before sitting down against one of the trees. Steffon, always prepared for such peaceful moments, pulled a book out of a pouch on his belt.
"What's that?" Asked Arya, sitting down next to him.
"It's called The Lord of the Rings. It's written by a Maester Tolkein and is one of the best I've ever read. They made plays based on it." Steffon replied.
"It was three, wasn't it?" She asked
"Yes it was, all three volumes. They're going to be writing a series of plays based on its prequel as well."
"But wasn't the prequel just one book?" Asked Arya, puzzled.
"Yes, but every person loves their coin, especially playwrights." Steffon answered.
"What about the series written by Maester Martin?" She asked again.
"They're very good. Excellent in fact, but he always says that the next part is 'coming soon'. Every. Single. Time." He responded. Arya giggled, gently shoving him. "Oh so you want to play rough, wolf?" He said jokingly, shoving her back. The shoving match got more intense, until Arya decided to tackle him to the ground. The two then realised what an awkward position they were in, what with Arya being on top of Steffon; but neither of them wanted to move. They began leaning in toward each other, Steffon closing his eyes so he didn't make things weird.
Then Arya shot straight past his lips and kissed him on the cheek instead. She then leaped up off him and began running back to the column, laughing the whole time.
"Oh I'll get you for that wolf!" He shouted.
"Maybe when dragons return to the world, Young Stag!" She shouted back. He then jumped off the ground, shoved the book into his pouch, and took off after her.
The trip to the Wall was unpleasant to say the least. Gendry knew the fact that he already had a sword and some measure of training by a Household Guard Captain would make him a target for some of the more . . . 'unsavoury' recruits. As a result, he had done his best to avoid them so far. Night was falling though, and the party of recruits stopped to set up camp for the night. Some of the recruits who had been tied up to prevent them escaping were sat down and untied as Benjen Stark, the First Ranger and Lord Stark's brother, barked out instructions.
"What could they have done?" Gendry asked, more to himself than anyone else.
"Rapers." Said Tyrion, who sat himself down near Gendry. "They were given a choice no doubt: castration or the Wall. Most choose the knife." Tyrion finished. Gendry looked at the recruits distastefully, wondering how any of them could rape someone. "Not impressed by your new brothers?" Asked Tyrion. Gendry's look told him all he needed to know. "That's the lovely thing about the Watch; discard your family and you get a whole new one." Said Tyrion, smirking as always.
"Why do you read so much?" Gendry blurted out. It had been playing on his mind for some time. He needed a bit more . . . Gods what did Prince Steffon call it . . . tact? Yes that was it; tact. Then again, Gendry had grown up in Flea Bottom; life there was rough-and-tumble at the best of times and there hadn't been much call for tact there.
"Look at me and tell me what you see." Tyron replied.
"Is this some sort of trick, Lord Lannister?"
"What you see is a dwarf. If I was a peasant they would've left me in the woods to die. Alas, I was lucky enough that my parents were Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Things are expected of me. My father was Hand of the King for 20 years."
"Until your brother killed that King." Gendry said.
"Yes, until my brother killed that King. Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new King and my repulsive nephew Joffrey will be King after him. Sometimes, I wish Steffon was their firstborn. But I must do my part for the honour of my house, wouldn't you agree? How you might ask? Well, my brother has his sword and I have my mind. And a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. I would've thought Steffon taught you that. And you? What's your story bastard?" Tyrion asked. By now, it was no secret that Gendry was Robert's bastard son, as Steffon had told Benjen at Winterfell, along with most of the other Starks and Tyrion. They had all kindly agreed to keep it a secret from Cersei, who would be livid to find out her son brought along his bastard half-brother, to say the least.
"Ask me nicely and maybe I'll tell you dwarf." Gendry responded, with an edge in his voice. He never liked being called bastard, even if he was a Flea Bottom native.
"A bastard smallfolk boy with nothing to inherit, off to join the ancient order of the Night's Watch with his valiant brothers in arms."
"The Night's Watch protects the realm against-" Gendry started.
"Against grumpkins and snarks and all the other monsters your friends in Flea Bottom warned you about. You're a smart boy Gendry. You don't really believe that nonsense do you?" Tyrion asked rhetorically. "Here. Everything's better with some wine in the belly" He said, tossing a wineskin to Gendry.
The recruits arrived at Castle Black days later, after some very hard travelling. Gendry, along with the other recruits, was awed by the size of the Wall. Surely it took more than a thousand men to man that thing. Well, here I am he thought to himself before riding through the gates of Castle Black behind Benjen.
The mood back in Winterfell meanwhile, was somber to say the least. Catelyn and Myrcella hadn't left Bran's side as he lay unconscious. Myrcella had been overjoyed when her father and Lord Stark had agreed to let her stay as a handmaiden to Lady Stark. She had stayed by Bran's side the whole time, all the while reading one of Maester Martin's books or looking anxiously at Bran. Catelyn had noticed some of the looks she gave her unconscious son, and picked up that Myrcella may have become infatuated with Bran. Why else would she want to stay here?
"It's time we reviewed the accounts, My Lady. You'll want to know how much the Royal visit has cost us." Said Maester Luwin, slipping quietly into the room.
"Talk to Poole about it." Catelyn responded, solemnly.
"Poole went south with Lord Stark, My Lady. We need a new steward, and there are several other appointments that require our attention-" Luwin began.
"I don't care about appointments!" She snapped, before Robb, who had arrived quietly himself, spoke up.
"I'll make the appointments." He said, before Luwin left the room. Myrcella tuned out of the conversation between mother and son, instead looking at Bran. He looked strangely at peace, lying there. At least he wouldn't be crippled. She was reluctant to admit it, but she had become . . . enarmoured with Bran. When she first saw him in the Winterfell courtyard in what felt like a lifetime ago, she had thought him handsome, and she'd been unable to stop the blush that had crept onto her cheeks when he kissed her hand. Both of them had blushed when Myrcella took his arm so he could escort her into the feast.
"Fire." Said Robb, snapping Myrcella from her thoughts. "You two stay here; I'll be back." He said, before going off to lead the effort against the fire. Myrcella looked behind Catelyn, and her eyes widened.
"My Lady . . ." She said, pointing behind her, Catelyn turned around . . . and came face to face with a grim-looking man.
"You're not supposed to be here. No-one's supposed to be here." He said, making Myrcella fear what would happen next. Her fears were justified, as the man pulled out a dagger. "It's a mercy. He's dead already." Said the man, before diving at Bran's unconscious form.
"No!" Shouted Catelyn, intercepting the man. The two fought as Myrcella searched for something to help Catelyn with. Frantically, she grabbed a fireplace poker just as the man threw Catelyn to the side. She cracked the man over the head with the poker again and again with a surprising amount of force for a girl her age, before the man seized the poker and smashed the blunt end into her shoulder. Myrcella cried out in pain, slumping against the wall and clutching her shoulder.
Just as the assassin lunged at Bran again, a blur of grey appeared in front of Myrcella. It was Bran's direwolf! The wolf mauled the assassin, tearing out his throat before calmly sitting down at the foot of Bran's bed. Myrcella walked over to the wolf cautiously.
"Good boy." She said, reaching to scratch him behind the ears. The wolf sniffed her for a few seconds and deciding that she smelled okay, held out his head. Myrcella scratched the wolf behind his ears, until he fell asleep. "Lady Catelyn, are you alright?" She asked. Catelyn had grabbed the blade of the dagger with her hands, and they were badly shredded.
"I believe I'll live." Said Catelyn. "And you, Princess? Are you alright?" She asked. Myrcella felt a biting pain in her shoulder, but all in all, she was more concerned about Catelyn's shredded hands.
"I'll be fine, but you'd best get those seen to." Myrcella said, nodding her head and Catelyn's hands.
"Yes. Yes of course. I'll go and see Maester Luwin now." She said, before leaving the room. Myrcella resumed her seat, trying not to look at the mauled body of the assassin. Unable to calm herself, she stood up and went to Bran's side again. Mustering her remaining reserves of courage, she leaned over and kissed Bran on the cheek.
Back in the south, column had arrived at the Crossroads Inn, their last stop before heading to King's Landing. Steffon and Arya had been taking every opportunity they could to spend time together. They both knew that they were beginning to fall for each other, and that left them both nervous. What if one of them messed up? They put these sorts of questions to the backs of their minds as they met for breakfast.
"So, what are you doing today Arya?" He asked. Arya noticed that he wasn't wearing his padded armour for a changed, but a plain brown doublet with the Baratheon crowned stag embroidered on the chest.
"Mycah and I were going to look for Rhaegar's rubies. You know, the rubies on the breastplate of the man your father killed?" She asked.
"I know. Though I think the last of them would've been found years ago." He said. Arya pouted.
"That's not to say we won't find anything." She said. Steffon held his hands up in surrender.
"I never said you wouldn't. Mind if I join you two? I've got nothing else planned today?" He asked.
"Sure! You can teach me and Mycah how to swordfight!" She said, excitedly.
"Arya, you know I'm not much of a fighter. But I suppose I could still join you anyway." Steffon said. The two quickly wolfed down their breakfast before collecting Mycah and heading to the nearby Ruby Ford. Arya and Mycah gave up looking for the rubies after a short time, before picking up two stick and swinging at each other wildly.
"I'll get you!" Said Mycah, chasing Arya while Steffon laughed from the sidelines. Suddenly, Joffrey and Sansa appeared.
"Arya!" Sansa shouted.
"What are you doing here? Go away." Arya said testily.
"Your sister, I presume. And who are you, boy?" Joffrey asked.
"Mycah, m'lord." Mycah said, trembling with fear. Steffon began to move forward with the intention of defusing the situation.
"He's the butcher's boy." Sansa said.
"He's my friend." Said Arya, prompting a glare from Sansa.
"A butcher's boy who wants to be a Knight, eh? Pick up your sword then butcher's boy and let's see how good you are." Joffrey said, smiling sadistically and drawing his longsword, Lion's Tooth.
"She asked my too, m'lord. She asked me to." Said Mycah, still quaking.
"I'm not your lord I'm your Prince, and I said pick up your sword."
"It's not a sword, my Prince. It's only a stick."
"And you're not a Knight. Only a butcher's boy. That was my brother's betrothed you were hitting you know that?" Joffrey asked rhetorically.
"Joffrey, cut it out." Said Steffon, only to be ignored.
"He's right, stop it!" Arya said.
"Arya, stay out of this." Sansa responded with an edge to her voice, prompting glares from both Steffon and her sister.
"Oh don't worry, I won't hurt him . . . much." Said Joffrey, sliding the sword down Mycah's cheek, cutting it open. Suddenly, Arya smashed the stick into Joffrey's shoulder, causing Joffrey to swing the sword wildly at her. "FILTHY LITTLE BITCH!" He shouted. That was it for Steffon; no-one called Arya that on his watch. He drew his own sword and jumped into the fray, parrying and blocking Joffrey's clumsy swings before he brought his blade down on Joffrey's, pinning his brother's sword to the ground.
"Now, let's pretend that none of this happened. No-one has to get hurt here, are we agreed?" Steffon asked before sheathing his sword. Sansa was the only one who nodded, not that he noticed. Arya, filled with rage and indignation, and with more than a little gloating at the situation, struck Joffrey again with the stick.
"I'LL GUT YOU, YOU LITTLE CUNT!" He shouted, before Nymeria leaped from the nearby bushes and attacked him. The two sisters began shouting at the direwolf, as she jumped n Joffrey. The tables were turned now, as Joffrey was lying on the ground and Arya was holding Lion's Tooth on him. He hurt Mycah and Steffon. He deserves to die! Her brain was shouting at her over Joffrey and Sansa's protests.
"Arya, stop!" Steffon shouted. She was brought back to her senses by that. No, she couldn't kill him. She was better than he was. Shaking her head, she gripped the sword with two hands and flung it into the river before running off with Nymeria.
Later that evening, everyone was gather at the Inn's main hall. Joffrey's mangled hand was patched up, an ugly bandage covering his hand. Arya had been found by Lannister soldiers. As if this day couldn't get any worseSteffon thought. She ran up to her father, begging his forgiveness.
"It's alright. What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?" Ned asked, in his Lord's voice.
"How dare you speak to your King in that manner." Cersei said.
"Quiet woman. Sorry Ned, I never meant to frighten the girl. Let's get this business done quickly." Said Robert, who was clearly not in a mood to be screwed around with.
"Your girl and that butcher's son attacked my son. The thing nearly tore his arm off." Cersei said.
"That's not true! She just . . . bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah." Arya responded.
"It's true, mother. Joffrey was cutting the poor lad's cheek open." Steffon said, only for his mother to ignore him.
"Joff told us what happened; you and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him." Said Cersei.
"That's not true!" Arya shouted.
"Yes it is!" Joffrey shouted in response.
"Liar!"
"Shut up!"
"ENOUGH!" Boomed Robert. "He tells me one thing, she tells me another. Seven Hells, what am I to make of this? Ned where's your other daughter?" He asked.
"In bed, asleep." Ned responded.
"No she's not. Sansa, com here darling." Cersei said, playing her trump card. Sansa stepped out from the crowd.
"Now, child" Robert started. "Tell me what happened. tell it all, and tell it true. It's a great crime to lie to a King."
"I don't know. I don't remember. It all happened so fast. I didn't see." She said.
"LIAR! Liar liar liar!" Arya shouted. She would've pulled Sansa's hair if Steffon hadn't somehow mustered the strength to wrap his arms around her midriff, holding her back.
"She as wild as that animal of hers. I don't know why you would consent to Steffon marrying her. I want her punished." Said Cersei.
"What would you have me do? Whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It's over." Said Robert.
"Father, if I may add something . . ." Said Steffon, trailing off.
"Of course Steffon."
"Well, Joffrey said he was beaten with clubs. Where are his bruises and welts? And if Arya did set Nymeria on him, they why isn't Joffrey dead? That wolf could've easily torn out his throat. No, she went for his hand because she was trying to protect her mistress. Note how that's his sword hand." Said Steffon. Robert had noticed that too, and there was little doubt in his mind that the wolf could've indeed killed Joffrey.
"Very well then. I'll see to it that Joffrey's disciplined." Said Robert.
"What of the wolf?" Asked Cersei.
"We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace." A soldier responded.
"No? So be it then." Said Robert.
"You have another wolf." Said Cersei.
"As you will." Robert said reluctantly.
"Father, Sansa's wolf Lady was not there. Mother is applying punishment by proxy. Do you honestly thank that's fair?" Steffon asked. Robert paused a moment.
"No. It's not, but this cannot be let go." Said Robert. Arya, Sansa and Steffon all began protesting. "I never said what would happen!" He boomed. "The wolf will return north, alive and unharmed. If you find the other, the same applies. If I found out that the wolf has been harmed by anyone unless in self-defence, then the Starks will deal with them. Case closed." Said Robert, leaving the hall. Arya embraced Steffon.
"Thank you thank you thank you." She said. Steffon hugged her back, eyeing off his brother.
Whew! Hopefully this will hold everyone over until I can update again. Auf wiedersehen!