Arya Stark
"Lady Stark, we depart for the capital tomorrow morning," Joffrey said calmly. "I came to make sure you are well and lacking nothing."
"I don't need your concern," Arya shot back boldly.
The king did not take offense. He gave her another slow, assessing look from head to toe, allowed himself the faintest of smiles, and continued:
"I give you my word that nothing will threaten you in the capital. You will be accommodated according to your status and position. You will enjoy royal hospitality and have an excellent opportunity to spend time with Sansa Lannister."
At those words, Arya nearly choked with fury. Sansa was a Stark—not a Lannister! Of course, she knew about her sister's marriage and who her husband was. The Imp was a grotesque little creature, and though he inspired less disgust than any other Lannister, it was still unfair to her sister! Such a graceful and refined elder sister surely deserved someone better than a sharp-tongued dwarf.
Joffrey left.
Three days later, she was already in King's Landing. She was given chambers not far from Sansa's.
***
"Let's run away together, Edric," Arya suggested resolutely.
That evening, they stood beneath the branches of the heart tree in the Red Keep, right under its canopy. Arya liked this place. It reminded her of home, and sometimes it felt as though her father still sat beneath the tree, polishing Ice. Besides, it was safe here—no one could overhear them.
The leaves rustled softly, soothingly. Often, she had the strange sense that all the Starks, from Brandon the Builder onward, were watching her through the branches and smiling.
Her companion was Edric Dayne—a tall, broad-shouldered youth with long fair hair and large, deep blue eyes that almost seemed violet. Back in the Eyrie, Arya had finally realized she could trust him. She hadn't had a friend like this in a long time. He was no worse than Gendry.
Despite his young age, Edric had already earned his knight's spurs and handled weapons well. He was calm, composed, and very reasonable.
Sometimes that annoyed Arya to no end.
Only recently had she realised, with a flush of shame, that she liked him. Not as a friend, but as a man.
"And where would we run?" Edric asked quietly. He glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then sat on a root protruding from the ground, leaning his back against the warm trunk.
"Anywhere. We could go north and reach the Wall. Jon Snow commands there—my half-brother and your milk brother. Or we could go to Braavos," Arya leaned closer and added in a whisper, "We could become Faceless Men!"
To her great disappointment, Dayne showed no interest or even curiosity.
"My lord Beric forbade me from going to the Wall. And I've no business in Braavos."
"But why?" Arya pouted and dropped down beside him. "Don't you want to take revenge on Joffrey? Don't you want to kill him?"
"No," the young man replied simply. "He hasn't done anything to me."
"What, has he bought you off too?" There was contempt in Arya's voice.
"He hasn't bought me. We spoke," Dayne said, not rising to her provocation, though the careless words had clearly stung. "He told me a war with Daenerys Targaryen and the Martells would soon begin. My house is ancient—the Daynes have never been fond of the Martells. But the king does not yet trust me; he doubts I would stand against Dorne. He has ordered me to remain here, and no doubt set men to watch me. I cannot flee—I do not wish to, and I have no right. I am both a hostage and a potential ally. I will fight for my castle from here, though I am certain the Martells will try to draw my men into their own host. You've heard of Starfall, haven't you?"
"I have," Arya muttered. "Father and Maester Luwin told me about it."
"I am the Lord of Starfall, Arya," Dayne said with a gravity beyond his years. "And I must do everything to ensure my house survives—I understand that now, fully. And afterward, if we win, the king has promised to let me return home."
"And you believed him?"
"I did… I've spoken with people. They all say Joffrey keeps his word."
Silence fell.
The two teenagers carefully avoided looking at each other. They both understood that they liked one another, but something held them back.
Arya already knew that the boy had a dream—to prove himself worthy of his family's great sword, Dawn, and to earn the title of Sword of the Morning. The Wall or Braavos had no place in those dreams.
Arya puffed out her cheeks and fell silent for a long time. Edric had to take the initiative.
"Don't run away, Arya," Dayne said softly, taking her hand and tracing a finger over her rough, unladylike skin. "Stay here. When it's all over, I'll ask for your hand and take you south. You'll be the Lady of Starfall!" Suddenly, he leaned closer and kissed her on the lips.
"Idiot!" Arya flushed red as a poppy and yanked her hand away. "I need to avenge my father—not think about marriage!"
She sprang to her feet and, trying to hide her embarrassment, ran off. Her cheeks burned like fire, and her heart felt strangely light! It was the first time in her life she had been kissed!
And it had been him—the most handsome and gallant young m an in the world.
But she had a Duty, and she could not forget her father's death.
After that conversation, they avoided each other for several days.
(End of Chapter)
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