Arya Stark a warrior with old scores to settle

She frowned at them with dismay and glanced at her sister Sansa's place among the other girls.

Sansa's embroidery work was exquisite. Everyone says it.

"Sansa's work is as beautiful as it is," said Septa Mordane to their mother once. "She has such fine and delicate hands."

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When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed.

"Arya has the hands of a blacksmith". Septa Mordane could have read his thoughts, but the Septa did not pay him any attention today.

She was sitting with Princess Myrcella, smiling and admired. It was rare for the Septa to have the privilege of teaching a royal princess to the female arts, as she had said when the Queen had brought Myrcella to join them.

Arya thought that the stitches of Myrcella looked a little twisted, but you would never do it. I know it by the way Septa Mordane cooed.

She studied her own work again, looking for a way to save it, then sighed and put the needle down. She looked at her sister with a dark look. Sansa was chatting happily while she was working. Beth Cbadel, the little girl of Ser Rodrik, sat at her feet and listened to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole leaned over to whisper something in her ear.

"What are you talking about?" Arya suddenly asked. 19659003] Jeyne gave him a surprised look, then laughed.

Sansa looked stunned. Beth blushed. Nobody answered.

"Tell me," said Arya.

Jeyne glanced to make sure Septa Mordane was not listening. Myrcella then said something and the septa laughed with the rest of the ladies.

"We were talking about the prince," Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss.

Arya knew what prince she meant: Joffrey. , of course.

The tall handsome. Sansa was able to sit with him at the banquet.

Arya had to sit down with the fat boy. Naturally.

"Joffrey loves your sister," Jeyne murmured, proud as if she was there for something.

She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's most expensive friend. "He told her that she was very beautiful. "

" He's going to marry her, "said little dreamy Beth hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be the queen of all the kingdom."

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushes nicely. She did everything nicely, Arya thought with a slight resentment.

"Beth, you do not have to make up stories," Sansa corrected, the girl gently stroking

her hair to soften the harshness of her words. [19659003] She looked at Arya. "What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He is very gallant, do not you think? "

" Jon says he looks like a girl, says Arya.

Sansa sighed as she sewed.

"Poor Jon," she says. "He is jealous because he is a bastard."

"It's our brother," said Arya far too much. His voice cut the silence of the afternoon in the hall of the tower.

Septa Mordane looked up. She had a bony face, piercing eyes and a thin lipsless mouth made to frown. He was frowning now. "What are you talking about, children?"

"Our half-brother," Sansa corrected, gentle and precise. She smiles for the septa. "Arya and I noticed how pleased we were to have the princess with us today," she said.

Septa Mordane nodded. "Indeed. A great honor for us all.

Princess Myrcella smiled uncertainly at the compliment. "Arya, why are not you at work?" Asked the septa. She stood up, staring skirts rustling as she walked across the room.

"Let me see your stitches."

Arya wanted to scream. It was like Sansa going to get the attention of the septa. "Here," she said, giving up her job.

The septa examined the fabric. "Arya, Arya, Arya," she said. "It does not go well. It will not be enough.

Everyone was watching her. It was too much. Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's shame, but Jeyne smiled for her. Even Princess Myrcella looked sorry for her. Arya felt the tears fill her eyes. She pushed herself out of her chair and headed for the door.

The Septa Mordane called him. "Arya, come back here! Do not take one more step! Your mother will hear about it. In front of our royal princess too! You will shame us all!

Arya stopped at the door and turned around biting her lip. Tears were now running down her cheeks.

She managed to make a little stiff salute to Myrcella. "By your leave, Madam."

Myrcella blinked and looked at her ladies. But if she was uncertain, Septa Mordane was not. "Where do you think you are going, Arya?" Asked the septa.

Arya looked at her. "I have to go on horseback," she said gently, taking the shock briefly on the face of the septa. Then she turned around and ran out, walking as fast as her feet took her.

It was not right. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older.

Maybe at the birth of Arya, there was nothing left. Often, it was like that. Sansa could sew, dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played high harp and bells.

Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had the prominent cheekbones of her mother and the thick auburn hair of the Tully.

Arya took after their father. His hair was a brown without any shine and his face was long and solemn. Jeyne had the habit of calling her Arya Horseface and approaching her whenever she was approaching.

It hurt that the only thing Arya could do better than his sister was to ride.

Well, that and manage a household.

Sansa never had a lot of head for the numbers. If she married Prince Joff, Arya hoped that he would have a good steward.

Nymeria was waiting in the guard room at the bottom of the staircase. She got up as soon as she saw Arya. Arya smiles. The wolf puppy liked it, even if no one else liked it. They went everywhere together and Nymeria slept in her room at the foot of her bed.

If Mom had not defended her, Arya would gladly have taken the wolf with her to make her do needlework. Then, Septa Mordane complains about her stitches at that time. She had yellow eyes. When they caught the sunlight, they shined like two pieces of gold. Arya had named her after the Rhoyne Warrior Queen, who had driven her people across the narrow sea. It had also been a big scandal.

Sansa, of course, had christened her puppy "Lady". Arya winced and hugged the wolf. Nymeria is licked the ear and she laughed

To this day, Septa Mordane would certainly have sent a message to her mother. If she went to her room, they would find her. Arya did not care to be found. She had a better idea.

Boys were training in the yard. She wanted to see Robb put the gallant Prince Joffrey flat on his back.

"Come on," she murmured to Nymeria. She got up and ran, the wolf hurrying on her heels

There was a window in the covered bridge between the armory and the Great Dungeon, from where we could see the whole court. It's there that they were heading.

They arrived, blushed and out of breath, to find Jon sitting on the sill, one leg stretched limply to the chin. He watched the action, so absorbed that he seemed to ignore his approach until his white wolf came to meet them.

Nymeria approached more and more suspicious. Ghost, already taller than his littermates, felt it, tugged at it and resettled.

Jon gave him a curious look. "Should not you be working on your stitches, little sister?"

Arya turned to him. "I wanted to see them fight."

He smiles. "Come here, then."

Arya climbed onto the window and sat next to him, badaulted by a thud and dull sound from the courtyard below.

To his great disappointment, it was the young boys who were drilling. Bran was so heavily padded that he looked like he had wrapped a bed of feathers, and Prince Tommen, who was fleshy at first, looked perfectly round.

They blossomed and beat each other with padded wooden swords under the watchful eye of the old Ser Rodrik Cbadel, the master of arms, a large barrel of man [19659003] with beautiful white mustaches.

A dozen spectators, man and boy, were shouting encouragement, the voice of Robb The loudest of them.

She saw Theon Greyjoy beside him, his black doublet adorned with the golden kraken of his house, an air of twisted disdain on his face.

The two fighters were amazed.

"A more exhausting shade than needlework," observed Jon.

"A more fun shade than needlework," Arya ceded to him. Jon smiled, reached out and stripped his hair.

Arya blushes. They had always been close. Jon had the face of their father, like her.

They were the only ones. Robb, Sansa and Bran, and even little Rickon, all took over after the Tully, with easy smiles and fire in their hair.

When Arya had been little, she was scared to become a bastard. It was Jon in his fear, and she who had rebadured him.

"Why do not you stay in the yard?" Arya asked him.

He gave her a half-smile. "Bastards are not allowed to harm young princes," he said. "The bruises that they undergo in the training yard must come from swords of real-borns."

"Oh." Arya felt disconcerted. She should have realized. For the second time today, Arya said that her life was not fair.

She watched her little brother bang on Tommen. "I could do as well as Bran," she said. "He is only seven years old. I am nine years old.

Jon looked at her with fourteen years of wisdom. "You're too skinny," he says.

He took her arm to feel his muscle. Then he sighed and shook his head. "I doubt you can even lift a long sword, little sister, but do not do it."

Arya grabbed his arm and looked at him. Jon has disheveled his hair again. They watched Bran and Tommen surround him.

"Do you see Prince Joffrey?" Jon asked.

This was not the case, but at first sight she found it on the back, in the shade. from the high stone wall. He was surrounded by unknown men, young knights in the livery of Lannister and Baratheon, all foreigners.

There were some older men among them. Knights, she supposed.

"Look at his arms on his coat," Jon suggested.

Arya looked. An ornate shield had been embroidered on the quilted mantle of the prince. No doubt that the needlework was exquisite. The arms were divided in two; On one side stood the Crowned Deer of the Royal House, on the other the Lannister Lion.

"The Lannisters are proud," Jon remarked. "You think that the royal seal would be enough, but no, it makes his mother's house equal to that of the king."

"The woman is important too!" Protesta Arya.

Jon chuckles. "Maybe you should do the same thing, little sister. Wed Tully to Stark in your arms. "

" A wolf with a fish in his mouth? "That made her laugh." "That would look silly, and if a girl can not fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"

Jon shrugged. Arms but not swords Bastards have swords but not arms I did not make the rules, little sister. "

There was a scream from the courtyard from below.

Prince Tommen was rolling in the dust, trying to get up and failing. All the stuffing made him look like a turtle on his back.

Bran stood above him with a lifted wooden sword, ready to hit him again once he had regained his feet. The men laughed.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik shouted. He gave a hand to the prince and straightened him up. "Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them get out of their armor. He looked around. "Prince Joffrey, Robb, would you like to move on to another round?"

Robb, already in a sweat of a previous fight, has advanced with impatience. "Gladly."

Joffrey exposed himself to the sunlight in response to Rodrik's summons. His hair shone like gold spun. He looked bored. "It's a children's game, Ser Rodrik."

Theon Greyjoy burst out laughing. "You are children," he says derisively.

"Robb may be a child," said Joffrey. "I am a prince. And I'm getting tired of knocking Starks out with a game sword. "

" You have more notes than you've given, Joff, "Robb said." Are you scared? ? "

Prince Joffrey looked at him," Oh, terrified, "he said," you're so much older. "Some of Lannister's men laughed.

Jon stared at the scene with a frown. "Joffrey is really a bit shitty," he told Arya.

Ser Rodrik thoughtfully pulled out his white whiskers. "What do you suggest?" He asked the prince.

"Long live steel. "

" Finished, "Robb retorted," You'll be sorry! "

The weapons master put a hand on Robb's shoulder to calm him down. living steel is too dangerous, I will allow you sunflower swords, with blunt edges. "

Joffrey says nothing, but a strange man for Arya, a great knight with black hair and burning scars face, pushed back before the prince.

"This is your prince. Who are you to tell him that he may not have an advantage over his sword, ser? "

" Weapon Master of Winterfell, Clegane, and you'd better not forget it. "

Train women here?" The burned man wanted to know .He was muscular like a bull.

"I train knights," said Ser Rodrik. "They'll have steel when they will be ready when they get old. "

The burned man looked at Robb," How old are you, boy? "

"Fourteen years old," said Robb.

"I killed a man at age 12. You can be sure that it was not with a dull sword."

Arya could see Robb bristling .His pride was hurt. turned on Ser Rodrik, "Let me go. I can beat him. "

" Then beat him with a tournament blade, "said Ser Rodrik.

Joffrey shrugged," Come see me when you grow up, Stark, if you're not too old. " Lannister's men were laughing.

Robb's curses echoed in the courtyard, and Arya covered his mouth in shock.Theon Greyjoy grabbed Robb's arm to hold him in the chair.

Ser Rodrik tugged on his mustaches, dismayed.

Joffrey pretended to yawn and turned to his younger brother. "Come on, Tommen," he said. "The hour of play is Let the children fall in their antics. "

This brought more laughter to the Lannisters, more swearing at Robb

in an iron clamp until the princes and their group were safely, away, his face had become as motionless as the pool in the heart of the wood of God.

Finally, he went down by the window "The show is over," he said.

He leaned over to scratch Ghost behind the ears.

The white wolf stood up and rubbed himself against him. "You better go back to your room, little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be hidden. The longer you hide, the more severe the penance. You will sew all winter. When the spring thaw takes place, they will find your body

with a needle still tight between your frozen fingers. "

Arya did not find that funny. "I hate needlework!" She said pbadionately. "It's not fair!"

"Nothing is right," says Jon. He stripped his hair again and walked away, Ghost moving silently by his side. Nymeria also began to follow, then stopped and came back when she saw that Arya was not coming.

Reluctantly, she turned around

It was worse than Jon would have thought. It was not Septa Mordane who was waiting in her room.

It was Septa Mordane and her mother.