Eyes Open / Ned Stark / Oberyn Martell

14. Tell Me

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly unable to hide her intrigue. Jeyne gave her a startled look forgetting Arya was even there. She ran off most lessons before Jeyne looked to sansa, then giggled. Sansa looked embarrassed. No one answered. "Tell me," Arya begged thinking this must be good if it was a secret.

"We were talking about the prince." Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss. Arya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The tall, elder, handsomer one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast.

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. "He told her she was very beautiful."

"He's going to marry her," another girl, Beth declared

"Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment.

"But Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa corrected "nothing it set yet... yet."

"What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?" Sansa gushed.

"Jon says he looks like a girl," Arya corrected bluntly but Sansa sighed as she stitched not meeting Arya's gaze.

"Poor Jon," Sansa said. "He gets jealous because he's a bastard."

"Hi honey," Satori coed moving to JOffrey. "You sleep alright?" 

"I dont like the beds." Joffrey corrected. 

"You are going to find everything to complain about, are you?" Satori questioned. 

"Maybe. There is a lot to complain about." Joffrey agreed. 

"Try finding the wonderful good things in winterfell instead." Satori suggested. 

"I called sansa pretty last night and then the little one flung food at her face." Joffrey informed her. "That was fun... funny." JOffrey corrected. She shook her head, a tight smile on her lips. "It was funny." 

"Come on honey, lets show these starks what a real man can do." Satori instructed nudging him forward. "Now Robb is elder than you, remember that its okay if you don't win. This is just practice." 

"I got this." Joffrey assured. 

"Lady Satori," Theon purred.

"Hello Lord Greyjoy," Satori answered and Theon smirked back at Robb. She looked around though. "Where is Jon?" 

"He..." Robb looked around thinking he usually was here swatting at a dummy. 

"He's in the window!" Tommen shouted pointing up at Jon. Satori followed his gaze. 

"Drink too much last night Jon?" Satori teased. "Come on down." she called up.

"He's not allowed," Catelyn corrected marching up to them. 

"Not allowed? I saw him outside last night, he seems a very capable fighter." Satori corrected, Catelyn stuck her nose up at Satori. 

"He is not allowed." Catelyn repeated. Satori took another glance at Jon. He gave her a little sad, wave.

Jon sat on the ledge of the window, one leg drawn up to his chin. He was watching the action, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of her approach until his white wolf moved to meet them. Nymeria stalked closer on wary feet. Ghost, already larger than his litter mates, smelled her, gave her ear a careful nip, and settled back down. Jon gave Arya a curious look.

"Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?" Jon questioned, Arya made a face at him.

"I wanted to see them fight." Arya corrected. 

"Come here, then." Jon agreed.

Tommen and Bran were up and they were huffing and puffing and hitting at each other with padded wooden swords under the watchful eye of old Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms. A dozen spectators, Satori among them, -Cersei had other things to do like drink the day away until they left- were calling out encouragement, Robb's voice the loudest among them. 

"These men fight differently than the capital." Satori remarked. Sandor nodded. "Joffrey is going to get his ass kicked isnt he?" Sandor nodded again. "He's not going to like that." 

"No he is not." Sandor agreed. "Dont worry Sunshine," Sandor assured giving her a nudge. "Falls make a man stronger." 

"I can't picture you ever falling, Sandor yet you are the strongest man I know." Satori corrected. 

"Ah, flattery, you trying to get into my pants Sunshine?" Sandor half mused, she swatted a hand at his chest. He chuckled, licking his bottom lip. 

"A shade more exhausting than needlework," Jon observed with a grin and Arya rolled her eyes.

"A shade more fun than needlework," Arya corrected. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair.  "Why aren't you down in the yard?" Arya asked him. He gave her a half smile.

"Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes," he remarked. "Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords."

"Oh." Arya rasped. She should have realized. Arya watched her little brother whack at Tommen. "I could do just as good as Bran," arya gripped. Jon looked her over with all his almost seventeen -year-old wisdom.

"You're too skinny," he said. He took her arm to feel her muscle. Then he sighed and shook his head. "I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one." Arya snatched back her arm and glared at him.

Joffrey was bored he wrapped his arms around Satori was she leaned up against the large stone wall, tired of standing in one spot to but the show of Tommen and Bran was so cute. 

"You did good baby," Satori whispered kissing the top of his head. 

"He's better than me." JOffrey mumbled into her. 

"He's older than you." Satori added. "You have sandor to teach you, him and your uncle Jaime are the best fighters, they will make you strong like them, skilled, it takes time and training and lots of practice." 

"You are skinny thing like your aunt." Sandor cut in. Joffrey groaned glancing back at him. 

"You will never be big like Sandor." Satori agreed. "But that doesnt mean you can't be strong like him." 

"Sort of does." Joffrey countered. 

"Fine, aim for Jaime then." Satori suggested. 

"You see Prince Joffrey?" Jon asked. Arya hadn't, not at first glance, but when she looked again she found him to the back, under the shade of the high stone wall. He was surrounded by men she did not recognize, young squires in the livery of Lannister and Baratheon, strangers all. But he clung to his aunt, like a child in need of a security blanket. 

"Look at the arms on his surcoat," Jon suggested.

"Am I looking at the needlework or the shield?" Arya teased. The arms were divided down the middle; on one side was the crowned stag of the royal House, on the other the lion of Lannister.

"The Lannisters are proud," Jon observed. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's House equal in honor to the king's." Jon corrected.

"The woman is important too!"