A Furious Thing

King's Landing Cont.

King's Landing

After the awkward dinner, Arya retreated from the room to wander the halls. She had no idea where her quarters were, but every second spent with her father and her half-siblings felt like an intrusion. She was the stranger, the one that didn't belong. Even Jeyne was more of Stark than she was.

The corridors were bare, not as she'd expected. She supposed, considering her father occupied the tower now and Jon Arryn had occupied it before, there was no reason it would be overly decorated, but she had several expectations for the Red Keep, one of them being ostentatious. As she moved about the halls, peeking discreetly into every other room, not sure what she was looking for, she came on a set of steps. She began climbing, and reached a whole other floor. It was a Tower, so this was no surprise, but the figure standing in the center of the hall, back turned towards her, was. She clutched her chest in surprise, and her gasping alerted Lady Stark to her presence. She turned and her face hardened right before Arya's eyes.

"So now I'm being followed?" she asked, raising a single imperious brow.

"Pardon me, my lady. I was only looking for my chambers," Arya said, dropping into a curtsy, made clumsy by her lack of skirts.

"There's an empty room beside Bran's. I suppose Lord stark will want you in there."

"Thank you, my lady," she responded politely.

Catelyn watched her warily before speaking again. "Don't thank me, girl."

"May I..." Arya began, pausing to search for the right words, "May I take my leave, my lady?"

"No. I'll show you to your room so you won't be wandering about," she answered, spinning on her heels. Arya hurried to catch up, but Lady Stark was much taller than her, and she wasn't slowing to accommodate the girl at all.

The room was at the end of the long corridor, the door just like all the others. Her things weren't there yet- she'd just arrived an hour ago- but the sheets were turned over.

"Do you have things coming?" Lady Stark asked, staying behind in the hall while Arya entered her room.

"Father said he'd send servants after dinner for my things..."

"Very well. I'll have it sent to this room."

"Thank you, my lady," Arya answered dutifully. She expected the woman to finally leave her alone, but she persisted to stare in at her, eyes narrowed.

"It would have been easier, you know, if you didn't look like a Stark," she announced icily.

Arya turned her head, waiting for the woman to explain herself.

"If you had looked like someone else's child I may have been able to think of you as a ward. I could have treated you as I treated Theon."

She was silent for a moment, turning the words over in her head. She wondered what that would have been like, but she doubted the truth of it. Catelyn Stark hated her for one reason, and it wasn't how she looked. Besides, it wouldn't have made her feel better, being an outsider in her own home, looking like no one she knew, and being constantly out of place.

"But you do. You look just like your father, just like my son. You were a mark of shame on our marriage. No one can blame me for how I've treated you," she continued.

But Arya could. Arya could blame her for every cruel word and cold glance. When she was a young girl, Catelyn had been able to bring her to tears with only a word, or a look. She'd gotten better at ignoring it, but her time on Tarth had made her calluses towards the treatment fade away. She was blistering now. She didn't tell Lady Stark any of this, only watched her with the eyes that looked like her father's, hoping it was enough of a punishment.