The words were bitten out. Then the king was walking away with Father. She acted, oh she acted. It's the only thing I've ever wanted. Eating quietly and holding a conversation as best as she could. She watched her mother attempt to speak to the Queen.
Then Beckoned for. She was asked her age, and if she was still growing, and then asked if she was bled yet. She had bit back the blush. Then if she made her own dress. Then asked to make something for the Queen. Ayra was a pest, as she was usually. Throwing food and then getting escorted from the hall. She signed and her friend Jeyne Pool helped her clean the food from her face and her dress. She settled into her bed and started the quiet riding gear she'd made for herself that would look lady-like.
She was prepared, and she was told by her mother and father that it was likely that she would marry the Prince. Terror filled her belly at even the thought- while she may say yes and bow and scrape as she must. She also knew she was not prepared. She prepared carefully, her books carefully lining the very bottom of her trunk, then the soft cloth going over it that she would tell others would protect her dresses. She carefully placed the items she knew she must take - cloth, her sewing kit, her second and third secret blade, the hidden stash of coins sewed carefully into each dress, the bag of jerky for Lady, her Direwolf, went into her handbag.
She kept packing carefully, the pendant that her father had given her on her ten and third-name day. The comb that Robb has gifted, and the small harp that her brother Jon had made with his own two hands. Yes, it was wood but carefully wrought, dire wolves crawled the wooden sides.
Carefully she packed or started to pack, as they went out on the hunt. Her brush and comb, the things she would need for her flowering if it happened upon the road. Nightgowns breeches to go under her dresses.
Solid shoes. Clean socks, the hemp of cord she kept around her upper arm that was hidden in case it was needed. The small pot with the rocks for heating for when they camped. The careful furs that she had sewn together to keep warm on the road. They would have tents but this.
This was the North. Soft slippers lined with leather on the bottom but carefully beaded and made by her own hand at the top. Carefully she placed the small fur bag of her personal effects, the soaps and scents that she had pressed from flowers, the extra bag with emergency thread and a needle for stitching, the small flask of liquor to clean small wounds. She called it her "in case" but what it really meant was that she was prepared.
She continued working on her packing. Compared to some books. They described the acts between a man and a woman in a way that her mother's information or the Septa's had not. She felt the blush crawl up her cheeks even just thinking of the books. Other books had information such as tactics, spying, information that at first she wasn't sure she needed to know, but then as she read the books started making SENSE.
Horrible, rotten no good sense, and she had realized in a way with a sense of loss but with a sense of good old common sense, that the books were They knew things - things she needed to know.
She was different from her siblings she knew. But she also knew enough from reading that she was the Eldest Daughter and that meant marriage proposals, and that meant marriage. She could not be flighty and free such as Arya, or even better, Jon. Oh don't get her wrong, she loved her siblings but her exasperation with them, especially Robb was at an all-time high. She settled in front of the fireplace with one of the books, innocuous enough but her mother nor father ever checked her reading material.
Thank goodness. The books had more information than she had learned in all of her one and three years. Information that she sorely needed, for as she grew, she had learned from these books that as she became a woman grown that she might be needed - bartered. The thought sickened her but what was she to do? That was the behavior of a child. And she knew, with a pang - that she had lost that ability.
The ability to be carefree, naive, and the loss of her childhood almost allowed bitter tears to slide down her cheeks, however, she tilted her head upwards, every inch a lady, but also the hidden wolf of Winterfell. Soon, she would become a woman, she knew enough of that from the ribald books that she had later learned came from a woman who had been married, then passed by for remarriage.
Cast aside the woman had once been a lady, and later.. Things she did not want to know but must. She would be bartered for what her hand could bring and she needs must. Her chin rose - proud, defiant, then she smoothed her expression, as she heard her mother call to her, placing her books in the smooth fur bag she made herself after hearing about one.
Then she left the room, head up. Face a smooth mask of ladylike indifference. The book she enumerated as she walked. Had explained many things - beyond what her mother had dared speak of. It had explained what a marriage night was - what happened during.
How it would hurt but could be pleasant if the husband was kind. How it could be unpleasant if he was not. How best to deal with things that a woman grown only would know. How to best deal with the flower that signaled adulthood, how to make sure that she smelled appropriate. How to make sure that she was healthy, what was best to eat when was the best time to get a babe in her belly.
How to take care of herself to keep herself appropriate and such. She frowned at him. As fast as she could towards Help. She ran as fast as she could, hands in her skirts, and panting hard. The Hound himself at her heels.
He picked the prince up without a word and then turned and raced back towards the Maester. And she, with all the intelligence of a girl still, turned and beat a path towards her father. Her father knelt next to her, his hands clasping her face.
The prince attacked her, she's ok. She fought him off. Nymeria attacked the prince. You have to help her. Starks to me! Clean yourself up. She immediately ran to where she had found Lady, pulling her wolf into her tent. She thought carefully. What could she do to help her Father? She remembered once before she read about a lord who had been attacked.
They had killed everyone involved. She couldn't do anything for herself, her father, or Arya, but she could help the wolves. She cupped Lady's face. There's no guarantee they will go after just Nymeria. Maybe I am being paranoid, if Arya has any sense at all she'll send your sister away too. Go now. Into the woods. They are searching to the east and south. Go, north Lady, go north to Winterfell. Stay there, protect Mother. The wolf had listened well to her, she had spent many hours training it.
She nestled her face in the fur, then hurried her wolf to the edge of the tree line, sending it home as fast as she could. She dressed carefully. For fight or flight. Her overdress was lovely, her hair braided back in the northern styles, and her face smooth and blank, but under all that, breeches, like Arya wore a shirt, and riding boots. Her little knife hidden carefully away, and her emergency pack situated at the entrance of the tent, as well as her trunk prepared and ready to hide.
Hours passed, and then she heard the guards, they had found her sister. But it wasn't Starks who found her, but Lannisters. She immediately sent Jory to Father, telling him that they had Arya. She waited until she saw him, falling into line behind Father and Jory. Her father opened his mouth to order her back to the tent, and she just shook her head to him.
He nodded his head, then raced to Arya, cupping her face with his hands. Her father bit out the words. Why was my daughter not brought to me at once? The Queen replied and Robbert told her to be silent.
But we need to get this business done quickly.
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