The idea

00:55 Juh 0 Comments

Title: The idea

Margaery had invited Arya to join her and her cousins in the solar. They were all singing and embroidering and eating cakes. The place was filled with music and laughter and Arya wished she could throw herself from a tower.

They are so annoying, she thought each five seconds, schooling her face to not let her feelings pass. She could feel Margaery's eyes on her all the time, even when the Tyrell wasn't looking at her. Someone else was. Always. All those cousins worked like extra eyes and Arya knew everytime she bit a lemon cake, someone was watching.

But she wouldn't be intimidated by flowers. Roses could have thorns, but wolves had claws and hers were specially sharp.

Margaery treated her better than the other ladies. She smiled and asked Arya questions about her general knowledge of weaponry, actually paying attention on the answers. Arya asked her about Highgarden, trying to imagine Sansa in the beautiful places Margaery described.

The betrothal between Gendry and her had been announced a week before. Arya would never forget the look on Cersei's face. But Joffrey's expression had been even better. The pure hatred in his eyes when he looked at her made her smile. Gendry's marriage would put a bigger distance between Joffrey and the Iron Throne and the fact that she, Arya Stark, that girl whose wolf had given him a scar, that girl that had threw his sword in a river was going to be his queen filled Joffrey's green eyes with fury.

Now, the Tyrells wanted to arrange a marriage between Margaery and Joffrey. Gendry's words still in her head, she felt like the invitation was a perfect opportunity to watch her better. See with your eyes. Arya needed to see her, to know her. That was the only way to find out what she was capable of.

But she got nothing. Hours of that torment, of boring conversations, annoying songs, badly disguised disdain and she couldn't figure out Margaery Tyrell. The girl wasn't innocent, that Arya was sure of. But she was really good in pretend she was.

A call from the door caught the attention of all ladies and Arya turned to see Jory Cassel.

"Lady Stark, your father wishes to see you."

Arya remembered the courtesies almost too late, but she excused herself and followed Jory outside the solar.

"What my father wants with me?"

Jory smiled. "Nothing, I just thought you could use your time in more pleasant activities." He handed her Needle in its sheath and she smiled at him, thankful, while taking the sword.

"Thank you, Jory! I was going crazy with them."

"Why did you accept the invitation, then?"

"I wanted to see something."

"And did you?"

"No. Or maybe yes. I saw something but I don't know what it was."

"What exactly you were looking for?"

Arya didn't want to talk about Gendry's suspicions, so she lied.

"A way to make people like me."

Jory laughed at her and she frowned.

"I wouldn't like to bring Gendry problems for marrying me."

"Then you'll have to win their affection in a different way."

"What way?"

"Your way. Why do you think the people like Lady Tyrell?"

"Because she's a lady. And I'm not."

"But there are other things that people love. Courage, bravery. Things you have."

"Things that don't matter in court."

"Things the people care about. They need to know that their leaders are strong, that they can fight for them, defend them. Show them how strong you are."

"How? You want me to best every knight in the kingdom?"

"Well, we will have a tourney for the Pince name day."

"You're not suggesting-"


"I'm not suggesting anything you haven't thought of, am I?"

Arya chewed her bottom lip. "I don't have an armour."

"And you're gonna need a new sword. This one won't last in a tourney." He smiled and she felt like she was a child again, back in Winterfell with Jory keeping secret of her whereabouts when Septa Mordane called her to her lessons.

"But I'm trying to be a lady, Jory!"

"And how's that working for you?" She looked down, but he put a hand on her shoulder, comforting her. "You sit with them, trying to mingle but you really want to be accept by them? Befriend them?"

"...No."

"Then bring them to your board to play your game. Show them that you can't be fooled. If you best all the knights in the tourney, not only the people will see you as their warrior queen. These flowers and lions will see it as well."

---------

And so she trained. All time she had, she was with Syrio or Jory or even Gendry, though he didn't know why she was practicing so much.

The first time they fought, he didn't put much strenght in his blows, evading more than actually trying to hit her. Angry and frustrated, she threw the wooden sword at him.

"Stop that!"

"What?"

"Fight me! I'm not gonna break!"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't! Because I can defend myself. But I can't show you unless you really attack me."

Gendry sighed and looked at Syrio, that only nodded, with a small smile, like giving him permission to use real strenght.

"Fine, Arya. But if I hurt you, I will never fight you again. These are my terms."

"Oh, if I get hurt, you won't fight again? You don't make sense, Gendry."

"You know what I mean." He threw her the wooden sword and assumed a fight posture.

Arya noticed the subtle changes. His face was serious, not a single hint of smile visible. His eyes focused on her, ready to read and respond to each move.

They started dancing. She moved faster than him, but his attacks were harder. Each time their swords meet, she felt the force of the blow running through her arm.

But she resisted and the dance lasted. Gendry was learning to predict her moves, he was truly seeing her, like Syrio would say. But she could see him too. His defense wasn't perfect and she could explore the gaps.

The dance changed. Her speed made his strenght useless and soon a particular hard blow from her disarmed him. She kept attacking until take him out of balance and he fell to the ground. She had a knife at his neck in the next second.

"I yield."

They were both breathless and her face was right above his. Their smiles showed up at the same time but before she could yank his head up to kiss him, Syrio started clapping and brought them back to reality.

"Very well done, girl."

She got up and helped him to do the same. "I want you to bring your warhammer next time."

"No."

"But-"

"No. It's too dangerous. You would have to be wearing a full armor for me to even think of using it. Maybe not even with armor."

"I never saw you fighting with it..."

Something in her tone moved him.

"I'll be training in the yard with the guards... For the tourney. You can come to see me. But don't ask me to use my warhammer against you. I won't do this."

Arya sighed. "Well, I guess I'll have to just watch, then..."

He smiled at her. "If you come to watch me, I'll defeat all guards and knights! At the training yard and in the tourney!"

"Let me guess. You'll make me Queen of Love and Beauty?"

"I can give the flowers to someone else if it pleases you, Milady." She glared at him. "I could give them to Lady Margaery."

She hit him with the training sword and he laughed. "Wouldn't that be scandalous? You are betrothed to me and she can marry your brother..."

He laughed again. "What's court without a good scandal?"

She chuckled. After a few moments of silence, he noticed she was chewing her bottom lip.

"What is it?" She looked at him with an interrogative expression. "You want to say something, I know you. Say it before you eat you whole lip."

She didn't meet his eyes when she asked the question. "Would you really choose Margaery as your Queen of Love and Beauty?"

He looked at her, incredulous. She was still biting her lip. "Of course not! I'd first give the flowers to Joffrey."

But she didn't laugh. "I'm serious."

He sighed and smiled at her. Her braid was partially undone, she was sweaty and dirty and beautiful. And insecure.

"You'll be my Queen of Love and Beauty, Arya. You already are."

She rolled her eyes at that. "You'll have to best everyone..."

"Are you going to watch me?"

"I'll definitely be watching you." Like all the other contestants. And I'll have to defeat you.

"Then I'll win."

"Champion of your own tourney? Predictable. Maybe some mysterious knight show up to take all the glory."

He frowned. "What people will think of me if I lose my own tourney to an anonymous contestant?"

She bit her lip again. "Whoever beat you in the arena, will be loved. A lot of people wants this... Don't take it personal."

The look he gave her was filled with suspicion but he said nothing.

"Your father will preside the audiences again today. Wanna go watch it?"

"I can't, I have my lessons. Some Targaryen kings were very interesting. Others, not so much. But I want to know all the history."

He nodded and smiled and pulled her close to a kiss, but she put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"What?"

She sniffed at him. "You should go bathe before showing up at the audiences, Your Grace."

"Oh, because you're smelling like roses right now!"

"Ladies smell like flowers..."

"Sweaty ladies smell like men. Guess which one you are."

She laughed and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "See you later, Your Grace."

"See you later, Milady."

While he watched her walk away, he promised himself that no one would best him in the tourney and he would make Arya be his Queen of Love and Beauty.