Both of the combatants were staggering. Arya judged that they had been at it awhile.
“A shade more exhausting than needlework,” Jon observed.
“A shade more fun than needlework,” Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned,
reached over, andmessed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close.
Jon had their father’s face, as she did.
They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took
after the Tullys,with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little,
she had been afraid that meant thatshe was a bastard too. It had been Jon she
had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured32 her.
“Why aren’t you down in the yard?” Arya asked him.
He gave her a half smile. “Bastards33 are not allowed to damage young princes,”
he said. “Anybruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords.”
“Oh.” Arya felt abashed. She should have realized. For the second time today,
Arya reflected thatlife was not fair.
She watched her little brother whack35 at Tommen. “I could do just as good as Bran,”
she said. “He’sonly seven. I’m nine.”
Jon looked her over with all his fourteen-year-old wisdom. “You’re too skinny,”
he said. He tookher arm to feel her muscle. Then he sighed and shook his head.
“I doubt you could even lift alongsword, little sister, never mind swing one.”
Arya snatched back her arm and glared at him. Jon messed up her hair again.
They watched Branand Tommen circle each other.
“You see Prince Joffrey?” Jon asked.
She hadn’t, not at first glance, but when she looked again she found him to the back,
under theshade of the high stone wall. He was surrounded by men she did not recognize,
young squires36 in thelivery of Lannister and Baratheon, strangers all. There were a few
older men among them; knights,she surmised38.
“Look at the arms on his surcoat,” Jon suggested.
Arya looked. An ornate shield had been embroidered39 on the prince’s padded surcoat.
No doubt theneedlework was exquisite. The arms were divided down the middle;
on one side was the crowned stagof 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, butno. He makes his mother’s House equal in honor to the king’s.”
“The woman is important too!” Arya protested.
Jon chuckled40. “Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister.
Wed34 Tully to Stark41 in yourarms.”
“A wolf with a fish in its mouth?” It made her laugh. “That would look silly. Besides,
if a girlcan’t fight, why should she have a coat of arms?”
Jon shrugged42. “Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but
not the arms. Idid not make the rules, little sister.”
There was a shout from the courtyard below. Prince Tommen was rolling in the dust,
trying to getup and failing. All the padding made him look like a turtle on its back.
Bran was standing43 over himwith upraised wooden sword, ready to whack him
again once he regained44 his feet. The men began tolaugh.
“Enough!” Ser Rodrik called out. He gave the prince a hand and yanked him
back to his feet.
“Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor.” He looked around.
“Prince Joffrey, Robb,will you go another round?”
Robb, already sweaty from a previous bout3, moved forward eagerly. “Gladly.”
Joffrey moved into the sunlight in response to Rodrik’s summons.
His hair shone like spun45 gold.
He looked bored. “This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik.”
Theon Greyjoy gave a sudden bark of laughter. “You are children,”
he said derisively46.
“Robb may be a child,” Joffrey said. “I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting
at Starks with aplay sword.”
“You got more swats than you gave, Joff,” Robb said. “Are you afraid?”
Prince Joffrey looked at him. “Oh, terrified,” he said. “You’re so much older.”
Some of theLannister men laughed.
Jon looked down on the scene with a frown. “Joffrey is truly a little shit,” he told Arya.
Ser Rodrik tugged47 thoughtfully at his white whiskers. “What are you suggesting?”
he asked theprince.
“Live steel.”
“Done,” Robb shot back. “You’ll be sorry!”
The master-at-arms put a hand on Robb’s shoulder to quiet him. “Live steel is too
dangerous. I willpermit you tourney swords, with blunted edges.”
Joffrey said nothing, but a man strange to Arya, a tall knight37 with black hair and
burn scars on hisface, pushed forward in front of the prince. “This is your prince.
Who are you to tell him he may nothave an edge on his sword, ser?”
“Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it.”
“Are you training women here?” the burned man wanted to know. He was muscled like a bull.
“I am training knights,” Ser Rodrik said pointedly48. “They will have steel when
they are ready.
When they are of an age.”
The burned man looked at Robb. “How old are you, boy?”
“Fourteen,” Robb said.
“I killed a man at twelve. You can be sure it was not with a blunt sword.”
Arya could see Robb bristle49. His pride was wounded. He turned on Ser Rodrik.
“Let me do it. I canbeat him.”
“Beat him with a tourney blade, then,” Ser Rodrik said.
Joffrey shrugged. “Come and see me when you’re older, Stark. If you’re not too old.”
There waslaughter from the Lannister men.
Robb’s curses rang through the yard. Arya covered her mouth in shock.
Theon Greyjoy seizedRobb’s arm to keep him away from the prince.
Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers in dismay.
Joffrey feigned50 a yawn and turned to his younger brother. “Come, Tommen,”
he said. “The hour ofplay is done. Leave the children to their frolics.”
That brought more laughter from the Lannisters, more curses from Robb.
Ser Rodrik’s face wasbeet-red with fury under the white of his whiskers.
Theon kept Robb locked in an iron grip until theprinces and their party were safely away.
Jon watched them leave, and Arya watched Jon. His face had grown as still as
the pool at the heartof the godswood. Finally he climbed down off the window.
“The show is done,” he said. He bent51 toscratch Ghost behind the ears.
The white wolf rose and rubbed against him. “You had best run back toyour room,
little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be lurking52. The longer you hide, the sterner
thepenance. You’ll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw53 comes,
they will find your bodywith a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers.”
Arya didn’t think it was funny. “I hate needlework!” she said with passion.
“It’s not fair!”
“Nothing is fair,” Jon said. He messed up her hair again and walked away from her,
Ghostmoving silently beside him. Nymeria started to follow too, then stopped and
came back when she sawthat Arya was not coming.
Reluctantly she turned in the other direction.
It was worse than Jon had thought. It wasn’t Septa Mordane waiting in her room.
It was SeptaMordane and her mother.