Chapter Text
Arya Stark had sailed once round the world; disappointingly there was nothing West of the Sunset Sea except Essos so she keep going and came home. She was greeted on the quayside in King’s Landing by her siblings, Bran with a smug look on his face that said, ‘I knew it all along’ and Sansa with that grim look that said she was going to go all ‘Queen of the North’ on Arya. In the time it had taken to get round the world Arya had definitely grown up, in that while she was still only five feet and an inch she had mentally and physically matured. She therefore wasn’t over happy when Sansa’s first words were “Since we heard you were on your way home we’ve been talking and it’s time you stopped fooling about like a child. The Starks need an heir and in time you’re going to provide one”.
Arya’s first instinct was to go straight back to the boat and tell the skipper to cast off and go back round the other way, but the honest truth was she was sick of salt pork and pickled cabbage, sick of emptying her bowels and bladder into a bucket that might slide sideways if the ship heeled suddenly, sick of the endless vulgar comments of the crew, particularly the lecherous old man who skippered the vessel; in fact sick of everything that meant going to sea, so she faced her sister “Do I get to pick my husband”.
Sansa turned to Bran, “You see she still hasn’t grown up”. She turned back to Arya “Don’t be infantile; Bran and I have discussed the political options and I must say you’ve done yourself no favours staying away. Gendry Baratheon was clearly the best choice, the man even cared about you; but you abandoned him so he’s married Meera Reed and she’s given him a son already, with another child visibly on the way”.
That stopped Arya in her tracks, somewhere in her mind had been the idea that if the worse came to the worse she could always marry Gendry; if only Sandor had survived the fall of the Red Keep. Ah well she’d tried and failed, better face the medicine. “So who do I get; understand if he can’t behave himself I’ll knife him, I’m not taking any of the shit you put up with Sansa. My husband needs to understand that I can do forcible penetration as well as any man and it would probably be fatal”. She saw Sansa wince, she shouldn’t really have said that but she was angry and she was going to have to co-operate with her siblings so, “I’m sorry Sansa that came out wrong, but cut to the chase are we going to be playing ‘Welcome to my castle’ on my wedding night or ‘Monsters and maidens’ followed by ‘Hide the treasure’.
Brans face twisted into another of his slightly sick smiles, “It’s interesting that you should refer to children’s games Arya as I believe your groom is keen on ‘Welcome to my castle’.
Gods she hated Bran at most cryptic “Are you using that as a euphemism to tell me he prefers something in him, a man’s man”.
Bran just smiled; Sansa replied for him “No Arya, well I don’t think so, it’s complicated and I don’t really want to discuss it on the dockside. Can we go back to the Red Keep where it’s more comfortable and more private”.
Arya gave a resigned sigh “Lead on then”.
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“Robert Arryn, but he’s barely breeched. Last time I saw him he was sucking on his mother’s teat”.
Bran had left Sansa the unenviable task of explaining the details to Arya having just told her “Trust me this is a good option in the long run”.
Sansa’s face continued to say she didn’t see Arya viewing it that way. “Well let’s start with the first advantage of that to you, it will be years before he wants to consummate the marriage”.
“It will be years before he can consummate the marriage”.
“Exactly, so as long as you’re discreet, you can do whatever it is you want to do for quite a while yet. Secondly he will be in your hands you can mould him into the man you want him to be, it won’t be hard”.
“No, once he starts to mature and his brain goes down between his legs I’m sure he’ll turn into a typical Lord of Westeros”.
“Well that’s your challenge”.
Arya took another long draught of the wine, she was painfully aware that she would be drunk and have a monstrous hangover before the morning was out, but at this point she didn’t really care. “All right, forget the politics that means you and Bran think this is the way it goes, tell me something about him, he’s six right”.
Sansa’s face went into ‘Here we go’ again Arya just knew this wasn’t getting any better. “Yes and I’m afraid the best I can say is that he’s small and painfully thin for his age. He is pale with brown hair and big eyes. He’s not particularly well either, nothing that might kill him, but he’s not robust so his interests are focussed on things like puppetry and songs. I’ve heard he really does enjoy playing ‘Come into my castle’ and because he’s physically weak he’s not really been tutored so he’s not going to challenge you intellectually”.
“I can see it in your face Sansa, I’m getting the good side of the story here. I’m getting a spindly, pigeon chested, potbellied runt with a runny nose”.
“Well actually it’s his eyes not his nose”.
“Anything else”.
“His skins a bit splotchy and” her Sansa paused; Arya could see she was building up to the big one. It couldn’t be a problem between the legs because they obviously wanted to breed from him eventually, what else could be wrong with the child. Sansa finally managed to continue “His mother’s been a bit overprotective, he’s not been weaned”.
The last left Arya speechless; she just slugged back the wine and refilled her glass to take another long pull. “And Bran says it will all work out in the end!”, the force in her voice made her opinion of this view obvious.
“Yes, I was as disbelieving as you obviously are, but he’s insistent that ten or twelve years from now you will be a happy and contented woman and the Starks will have the heir we all need”.
“Well who am I to contradict my brother’s third eye. We might as well get on with it”.
“Good I’m glad you feel that way because he’s here in the castle and the wedding feast is arranged for tomorrow”.
Arya was about to ask how that could happen when she realised her sister’s always expressive face was providing the answer “More third eye I suppose”.
“Yes”.
“Don’t ever play cards for money Sansa”.
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So here they were then in the Godswood dressed for a wedding. Slightly unusually Arya had arrived first and refused to go back and await being called when the groom appeared. It wasn’t as though there were many present, it was clear this was if not a clandestine affair a discreet one, presumably to save Arya being stared at by an incredulous collection of Lords. For that at least she was thankful; the image of Gendry stood proud and firm next to an obviously pregnant Meera looking at her pityingly had plagued her last night.
Eventually Lysa brought him out, dressed in the sky blue of the Arryn’s with the eagle badge on his cloak. He was trying to cling to her, but she pushed him down onto his own feet, took his hand and dragged him alongside Arya. His voice was a horrible nasal whine “Mama I don’t want to do this, I’m scared, I’ve heard stories about Arya Stark and she isn’t a nice lady. Mama I don’t want to leave you” and he buried his face in her skirts.
Arya had started the morning with a mixture of cold anger, tinged with a bit of shame and healthy dose of regret about Gendry, or even Sandor for the Old Gods sakes. Slowly it had dissipated until the hour of the wedding, a time it was quite obvious had been set so that a very short meal would be followed by her bedding at the sort of hour a six year old needed to be got to sleep. Now she mostly felt numb, she had no idea of what her life would become and she had no trust in her sibling’s reassurances.
Somehow, despite the whiny tone Arya took a minute to think about the boys words. He could hardly be blamed, he was bound to be spoilt with such an overprotective mother and her reputation in the war was still recent enough not to have mellowed with age. No doubt someone had told him if he didn’t behave Arya would just slit his throat like she had his one-time step father’s.
Somehow something in Arya snapped, everyone round here was so busy thinking about inheritance and allegiance that they’d forgotten about the fact that there were human beings involved. She might not be the most emotional person in the world, but a year in a small space with a limited number of people, following on from her time with Sandor Clegane had made her realise that human interaction was based on care and consideration for others and of the two of them she was not the one who needed protecting.
Arya dropped to her knees and shuffled up behind the boy. Thanks the old Gods for being short, she was pretty much at his head height. She put her hands on his shoulders as gently as she could manage “Hello Robert, I’m Arya”.
Initially she got no response, so she stayed there her hands resting as lightly on his shoulders as she could manage and waited. She lost track of time, she would wait here until he turned round and eventually he did. Sansa was right his eyes were largely and watery and at this moment that wasn’t something disgusting it was just another reason he needed protecting. Arya wasn’t thinking things though here but a massive dose of motherhood was flooding over her. “So Robert, are you going to invite me into your castle in the proper way”. Desperately she tried to remember the proper format of the game in case she needed to prompt him.
Robert gave her a very serious look, “No Lady Arya, we are not at my castle and I cannot invite you into my castle until we are properly married”.
Arya could almost hear the gasp around the group that he had come out with such a useful sentence. “Well then I think you should start playing the game, ‘Marrying Arya Stark’ don’t you. If I stay on my knees you can reach to put the cloak around my shoulders”, and he did, with a little help from Arya and his mother he got her wolf cloak off and placed the eagle one on her shoulders. In other circumstances Arya might have made a comment to her husband at this point about taking the wolf off her but never out of her, but she knew he wouldn’t understand and at this point she wanted the ceremony done. They must have said some words but Arya couldn’t remember later what they were and then they were walking hand in hand back into the keep.
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Arya’s assumptions had been correct; the meal was as small and private as the ceremony and lasted about an hour. No one got drunk, no foul language or suggestive remarks. Having avoided food earlier in the day largely due to her foul temper Arya actually found herself hungry and ate quite heavily. Robert nibbled at a few sweetmeats and then sat back in his chair. Clearly Sansa and his mother were watching him because the meal was brought to a hasty close and people approached to lead them away for the bedding. Once the women were alone Lysa came quickly up to Arya “You don’t have to go through with this. I can go and find him and take him and put him to bed”.
“No I’m his wife now, I’m sure you mean well Lysa, but he sleeps with me”, she’d stressed the word sleeps in case Arryn thought she had any other ideas “He needs to grow up a little bit and this will be an easy way of breaking him of more childish habits”. Lysa looked like she might want to disagree but Arya gave her her best ‘firm’ expression, she hoped it came over as firm and not dangerous.
They’d done the job properly for her, her wedding shift was the very best linen spun so thin it was see through so when the women removed her outer clothes she stood as near naked as made no difference. Somewhere a voice behind her said “What a waste of a beautiful young body” before they put the cloak back round her so she was decent. Then she was processed ceremonially into the bed chamber. Robert was already there between her brother in his chair and some man Arya didn’t know but who was either Lysa’s new husband or her Hand. He too was in his cloak and a shirt of sheer linen. Unusually for a husband he had a stuffed doll in his hand. Arya put her hand out to him “Come husband lets to bed, then we can let all these people go back to the feast while we enjoy a good night’s rest”.
The men got him into his side of the bed, Arya didn’t bother telling them she’d be sleeping on that side once they were gone, and removed his cloak. Then the ladies put her in beside him and removed her marriage cloak. Briefly Arya was aware that her breasts, still in her view very small and not properly grown, breasts were on display. No one however was stopping and neither of the men passed comment. The hangings around the bed were closed and her sister’s voice came from the door. “Sleep well”, the door shut with a heavy thud.
Over the years Arya had heard stories of boys hiding themselves in the bedding room to listen in to the performance behind the curtains, but she thought it unlikely this time so she simply turned to Robert who had sat very still next to her. “So Robert shall we play games or are you ready to go to sleep”.
“What sort of games”.
“Well we could play maidens and monsters, you have to chase me and catch me”.
“I’ve never played that before, I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to chase you, and what would I do if you chased me back”.
“Well let’s just snuggle up for tonight then”. She looked at him as best she could in the half dark of the drawn curtains, he was watching her and his bottom lip was trembling. She took his hands, he didn’t resist “I know this is all very scary for you but I promise to be as good a wife to you as I can. I’m not your Mama but I’m going to try very hard to do anything I can that’s good for you and make you happy”.
His lip was still wobbling.
“So what’s the matter Rob, may I call you Rob, Robert seems very formal”.
By now tears were slipping down his face. His head did manage a nod.
Arya slid over to him and wrapped her arms around his body, gods he was thin there was nothing of him, she kept a firm control on her hug for fear of crushing him.
He stretched his arms round her and looked up into her face, still with tears dripping down his cheeks “I can’t do it”.
“Do what”.
“Bed you properly”, he pushed his doll up against her chest and jiggled him about.
Shit! Arya realised someone had told the kid at least a bit about what he was meant to do in a bed with his wife. “You can do everything I want you to do tonight”.
“No I have to do it properly or we aren’t really married and you can get rid of me any time you like and mama has said I can’t go back to her ever again”. Tears were streaming down his face and there was a hicuppy sob before he buried his face in Arya’s chest .
If Arya could have got hold of whoever had filled him with this rubbish, well technically it wasn’t rubbish it was the law but to her it was rubbish, that person would have been suffering intense pain. “I will never leave you Rob, never and I don’t make promises lightly”. As she said it just for a second she asked herself how true the statement was then she determined it would be true, she would make it true come hell or whatever else. Neither of them had picked this, he couldn’t do anything about it but she could and she was going to.
“I should still try, I’m not a man if I don’t and then I can’t ask you into my castle properly”. The tears had temporarily stopped, but he looked as though they would restart at one more contradiction.
“Well come on then but you have to be gentle with me the first time”.
“I don’t know what to do”.
“Well I’ll show you exactly what I want you to do. I know wives are expected to obey their husbands, but you’re going to have to get used to the idea that at first I’m going to be, let’s say ‘making suggestions’. Now take your shirt off and I shall take my shift off”.
They both did and his eyes never left her face. Arya lay flat on her back. “Now come and give me a hug and a kiss”.
He lay down on her chest, spread his arms out round her and put his lips to hers, it was a peck like he was saying goodnight to his mother. He looked her in the face again.
Arya was thinking for all she was worth, how much had he been told, what was he thinking he had to do. The last thing she wanted to do was fake something he didn’t understand and frighten him. She put her arm round his body
“Now we rub belly buttons” and gently moved him forward and backward a couple of times the way he’d moved his dolly on her, the way she realised he was still holding it against her; then she gave out her most dramatic sigh “AaaaH” and kissed him briefly. “That will do for the first time; I’m really quite tired after all the fuss and the eating”. The look on his face said he’d fallen for the trick; he smiled at her and slid his body down onto her breast. For one second Arya thought he was going to try and suckle but he turned his head sideways and stuck his thumb in his mouth instead. Arya lay very still and willed herself to relax. She could feel his body on hers, every little detail of elbows and knees and things, she could feel his chest rising and falling, just. His heartbeat was too faint to detect. She felt a small tear slide down her own cheek, he was so small and helpless and it didn’t matter how spoiled he’d been he was with her now and slowly she would make a man of him in every way.
Fuck the lot of them, sitting down stairs drinking and undoubtedly congratulating themselves on the way they’d used both of them. Arya Stark liked nothing better than a fight and a fight they would get. Robert Arryn would be Warden of the East and Defender of the Vale one day and he would father children to succeed to both those titles and to the North at the very least, and Arya Stark would leave a trail of corpses in her wake if anyone opposed them.
On her chest Rob stopped making little sucking sounds on his thumb and looked up at her. She must have been scowling because he scooted back up and gently kissed her on the forehead, just like her father used to. She heard a little voice say “I love you” before he returned to snuggle between her breasts and fall asleep.
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An hour later Sansa’s curiosity got the better of her and she sneaked into the bedchamber. She expected to find Arya sat in the room outside the bed and was all prepared to say she’d come to give her some company. All that she found, when she finally sneaked a look though the curtains, was the married couple, naked and curled round each other asleep.