For Want of a Better King

Court Life

Arya

The Gates were looming and suffocating, and the air inside was stifling. After over a week on horseback and making camp on the road, she was ready for civilization. Crowds of people wandered this way and that, stopping to look at pieces of jewelry or a vase. Shouts erupted in Lysian, and colorfully dressed boys did flips and jumps to the applause of a few. It smelled of spices baking in the sun, and piss and shit as well. She couldn't breathe, and flicked her eyes in every direction, memorizing every detail to include in her report back to Winterfell.

The entire court came out to greet the small retinue, minus the merchants. The palace was impressive, you could almost imagine how every stone was placed, how many people it took to build, how many years. King Robert Baratheon was at the front of all. He was big and fat and black bearded. She didn't find him terribly impressive with his tunic stretched so tight over his belly and the way he mostly waddled when he walked. But he was huge, and he was laughing as he embraced her father joyfully, so she decided he couldn't be so bad.

The Queen was beautiful, blonde, tall, and delicate. She looked the picture of regality, with a look of boredom and distaste upon her lovely features. Arya thought that anyone who worried so much about proving themselves with fine silks and jewels probably wasn't spending enough time doing things that were actually important. Her own mother always looked nice, but she didn't have to try so hard.

The Prince was next; he took after his mother in looks as well as temperament, despite his medium height. It was obvious he didn't want to be there, and had a sneer on his fine face. Yes, he was handsome, but in a fragile way. She grew bored quickly, and continued her perusal.

Ser Jamie Lannister, the Queen's brother and famed warrior cut quite a dashing figure, he seemed more a King than Robert, but clearly she knew far too little about royals and what use they were.

The other Lannister was quite fascinating, little and disproportionate, eyes mismatched, and hair even lighter than his siblings, practically white. He however had good cheer and smiled at all present, seemingly enjoying the sweltering heat.

Lady Catelyn had picked out the perfect dress for the occasion; black for mourning, and Arya herself had done a simple braid in response to the sweat on her neck.

After her father, it was her turn to be introduced, Arya executed a curtsy the way her mother had drilled into her, and gave a respectful "It is an honor, Your Grace."

The King stared at her, jaw hanging open. She was unsure if she'd done something wrong. She looked to her father for answers, but he just shook his head sadly.

"Lyanna." The King muttered hauntedly, looking through her more than at her.

"No, it's Arya, Your Grace."

The King shakes himself out of it, breaks his gaze away, and demands that her father come to a small council meeting immediately.

The Queen and Prince showed them the proper respect as well and exchanged pleasantries, but they were over quickly. Ser Jamie kept silent, and the imp, Lord Tyrion, came around and formally introduced himself to her, bowing theatrically, and amorously kissed her hand, commenting on how she was a truly striking beauty and how all of King's Landing was sure to be enchanted with her. She smiled and thanked him sincerely, though couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the flattery. She remembered her mother's words, and the faces of those women desperate to undo past mistakes.

After being shown her room, Arya bathed and dressed with the help of a serving girl. She wouldn't shut up about the Queen's outfit and the handsome prince, but she couldn't find it in her to tell her to shut up, instead remarking that she would prefer to dress herself and dismissing the talkative thing.

The feast, which Arya had been looking forward to, ended up being a tense affair. The King flirted shamelessly with kitchen maids and whores alike, all within view of his Queen, making lewd comments to her father, who japed back, but was clearly uncomfortable. A Lady Arya didn't recognize tried to engage the Queen in small talk, but made no progress. Arya found herself between the Lannister brothers, she didn't get the chance to speak much, but listened intently to their stories and good-natured ribbing. They acted the way she did with her own brothers, and it made her truly homesick for the first time. She thought about what she would be doing in Winterfell at that moment, perhaps wrestling with the direwolves with Bran, stealing lemon tarts with Winterfell's ward, or captive depending on whom you asked, Theon Greyjoy. Or most likely she would have snuck out to go explore with Jon. She missed him terribly already.

She was interrupted from her musings by the Queen.

"You look lovely, my dear. Your hair is so much nicer now." The Queen remarked, obviously a bit drunk. The serving girl the Queen insisted on had done Arya's hair the same way as the Queen. Of course she'd like it.

"Thank you, your Grace."

"Truly you are quite pretty. My husband seems to think so." She took another drink from her goblet and gestured with her eyes to the King. Sure enough, the King was looking her way, but then got distracted once more by the dark haired prostitute wriggling on his lap.

"I don't invite his attention, Your Grace, nor is it welcome." Arya decided to be blunt.

The Queen chuckled and nearly spit out her wine, but didn't get one spot on her light green dress.

"Oh, of that I've no doubt. But that's hardly the point. We women are often blamed for the things men do. And we are most certainly the ones to pay the consequences." The Queen daintily wiped the wine off her chin with a table cloth.

"Yes, I take your meaning." Arya tread carefully. She received a shrewd look in response.

"Do you? Have you flowered yet?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And yet you are not yet wed. Perhaps you could yet marry my son." The Queen raises one perfect eyebrow in question.

"I am betrothed to my cousin Robyn Arryn, Lord of the Vale, but the wedding will wait until we are both old enough." She had never been gladder in her life for the arrangement with her cousin.

"A pity. A cousin is it? You will only get lovelier, and it will only make things worse. You'll see." The Queen switched to water and began chatting once more with the unidentified noble woman.

Arya took that as her cue, searched out her father's eye, and made a motion to signify her intent to leave. Lord Stark nodded his consent, mouthed goodnight, and returned his attention to the King.

Arya inconspicuously pulled out her chair and made her way to the exit. Before she could return to her room, someone blocked her path.

"Ah, My Lady, would you leave so soon, we've hardly had a chance to speak." Prince Joffrey smiled at her.

"My Prince. I'm sorry but I really am very tired, maybe a bit too much wine?" She had had only one cup, but he didn't know that.

"Ha ha ha. Women really shouldn't drink, they haven't the strength for it." She pretended to agree and tried to continue on her way.

"I would think it more a matter of wisdom than strength, My Prince, something men and women alike may easily lack."

He grabbed her hand and squeezed hard, much harder than necessary.

"Well, I suppose so, in their own way, women have their own kind of intelligence." She smiled in a way she hoped didn't convey her true disgust at his 'Princely Manners'.

He brought the hand he had not let go of to his lips and kissed her deeply on her pulse point, making her want more than anything to pull her hand back.

"As you say. Goodnight, My Prince."

His soft soft lips and flowery perfume made her feel as though she were choking on feathers. She managed to get her hand free only to have a guard take it instead, leading her to her chambers. The Prince was polite and well polished, but she had no idea what lay beneath. She would rather keep it far away from her. As he had looked up at her with sparkling green eyes, eyes like his mother's, she was reminded of Maester Luwin's whispered warning, 'The Red Keep is a nest of vipers.' He certainly seemed more a snake than a lion, even with the bright yellow hair.

She suddenly realized how lonely this place would be, and made a vow to help her father in any way possible.