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Arya

Her father had been fighting with the council again Arya could see it on his face when he caain, as he had been so often The first course, a thick sweet soup made with pumpkins, had already been taken ahen Ned Stark strode into the Small Hall They called it that to set it apart fro could feast a thousand, but it was a long roo and bench space for two hundred at its trestle tables

"My lord," Jory said when Father entered He rose to his feet, and the rest of the guard rose with hirey ith a white satin border A hand of beaten silver clutched the woolen folds of each cloak and uard There were only fifty of them, so most of the benches were empty

"Be seated," Eddard Stark said "I see you have started without me I am pleased to know there are still sonaled for theout platters of ribs, roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs

"The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord," Jory said as he resuhts will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appoint"

Arya could see that her father was not very happy about that "Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?"

Sansa’s eyes had groide as the plates "A tourney," she breathed She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far fro a reproach froo, Father?"

"You know ames and pretend to be honored for his sake That does not hters to this folly"

"Oh, please," Sansa said "I want to see"

Septa Mordane spoke up "Princess Myrcella will be there, er than Lady Sansa All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend"

Father looked pained "I suppose so Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa" He saw Arya "For both of you"

"I don’t care about their stupid tourney," Arya said She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey

Sansa lifted her head "It will be a splendid event You shan’t be wanted"

Anger flashed across Father’s face "Enough, Sansa More of that and you will change my mind I a You are sisters I expect you to behave like sisters, is that understood?"

Sansa bit her lip and nodded Arya lowered her face to stare sullenly at her plate She could feel tears stinging her eyes She rubbed therily, determined not to cry

The only sound was the clatter of knives and forks "Pray excuse me," her father announced to the table "I find I have sht" He walked froed excited whispers with Jeyne Poole Down the table Jory laughed at a joke, and Hullen started in about horseflesh "Your warhorse, now, he , oh, no, not the same at all" The men had heard it all before; Desether, and Porther called for more wine

No one talked to Arya She didn’t care She liked it that way She would have eaten her meals alone in her bedchamber if they let her So or some lord or the envoys from this place or that place The rest of the time, they ate in his solar, just him and her and Sansa That hen Arya missed her brothers most She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her "little sister" and finish her sentences with her But all of theone She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn’t even talk to her unless Father made her

Back at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them "Know the men who follow you," she heard him tell Robb once, "and let theer" At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different ht it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants The next tio on about are should be and the best way to teht be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to the to the h as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms She used to throballs at theave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that here she alas She’d liked that a lot better than "Arya Horseface"

Only that was Winterfell, a world away, and now everything was changed This was the first ti’s Landing Arya hated it She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told They’d been her friends, she’d felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie They’d let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he’d cut hiiven hi, and at first the poor htered And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harho always talked so bold, or Alyn as going to be a knight, or Jory as captain of the guard Not even her father

"He was my friend," Arya whispered into her plate, so low that no one could hear Her ribs sat there untouched, grown cold now, a thin fil beneath them on the plate Arya looked at them and felt ill She pushed away frooing, young lady?" Septa Mordane asked

"I’ry" Arya found it an effort to remember her courtesies "May I be excused, please?" she recited stiffly

"You may not," the septa said "You have scarcely touched your food You will sit down and clean your plate"

"You clean it!" Before anyone could stop her, Arya bolted for the door as the hed and Septa Mordane called loudly after her, her voice rising higher and higher

Fat To the door to the Tower of the Hand He blinked when he saw Arya rushing toward him and heard the septa’s shouts "Here now, little one, hold on," he started to say, reaching, but Arya slid between his legs and then she was running up the winding tower steps, her feet ha on the stone while Fat Tom huffed and puffed behind her

Her bedcha’s Landing, and the thing she liked best about it was the door, a massive slab of dark oak with black iron bands When she slaet into her room, not Septa Mordane or Fat Tom or Sansa or Jory or the Hound, nobody! She slammed it now

When the bar was down, Arya finally felt safe enough to cry

She went to theseat and sat there, sniffling, hating them all, and herselfbad that had happened Sansa said so, and Jeyne too

Fat To?" he called out "You in there?"

"No!" she shouted The knocking stopped Aaway Fat Tom was always easy to fool

Arya went to the chest at the foot of her bed She knelt, opened the lid, and began pulling her clothes out with both hands, grabbing handfuls of silk and satin and velvet and wool and tossing them on the floor It was there at the bottom of the chest, where she’d hidden it Arya lifted it out almost tenderly and drew the slender blade froht of Mycah again and her eyes filled with tears Her fault, her fault, her fault If she had never asked him to play at swords with her

There was a pounding at her door, louder than before "Arya Stark, you open this door at once, do you hear me?"

Arya spun around, with Needle in her hand "You better not coely

"The Hand will hear of this!" Septa Mordane raged

"I don’t care," Arya screamed "Go away"

"You will rue this insolent behavior, young lady, I promise you that" Arya listened at the door until she heard the sound of the septa’s receding footsteps

She went back to the , Needle in hand, and looked down into the courtyard below If only she could clio out theand down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of theood boots and a warm cloak She could find Nyether they’d return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone

A soft knock at the door behind her turned Arya away from theand her dreams of escape "Arya," her father’s voice called out "Open the door We need to talk"

Arya crossed the room and lifted the crossbar Father was alone He seery That made Arya feel even worse "May I come in?" Arya nodded, then dropped her eyes, ashamed Father closed the door "Whose sword is that?"

"Mine" Arya had alotten Needle, in her hand

"Give it to me"

Reluctantly Arya surrendered her sword, wondering if she would ever hold it again Her father turned it in the light, exa both sides of the blade He tested the point with his thumb "A bravo’s blade," he said "Yet it seems to me that I know this maker’s mark This is Mikken’s work"

Arya could not lie to hihed "My nine-year-old daughter is being ar of it The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household How is it that you coet this?"

Arya chewed her lip and said nothing She would not betray Jon, not even to their father

After a while, Father said, "I don’t suppose it ravely at the sword in his hands "This is no toy for children, least of all for a girl What would Septa Mordane say if she knew you were playing with swords?"

"I wasn’t playing," Arya insisted "I hate Septa Mordane"