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Arya sighed as she watched her brother go through the steps of ataru, the very form she herself preferred. And just as like every other time he had run through the form this morning, he once again mis-stepped and ended up falling on his backside.
"Wrong…again," Arya near growled, doing all she could to hold in her temper as she waited for her brother to get back to his feet. "For the hundredth time, Bran. Watch. My. Feet. This is one of the easiest sequences in ataru. And if you can't get it right, you might as well move on to another form."
To her increasing annoyance, her little brother didn't argue with her, nor talk back, or…anything really. He just nodded, then watched carefully as Arya demonstrated the steps he'd been working all morning on. "There," she said, her frustration at her situation mounting as she finished the steps…without even a stick in her hands. "Now don't try to do it right, just do it!"
Stepping back, Arya watched as Bran went through the steps again, training blade in hand. He finally didn't fall on his backside this time, but he did have to catch himself. It was…progress, she supposed. "Again."
Only half paying attention to her brother as he went over the steps again and again, Arya let her eyes wander around the still nearly completely deserted godswood. The only other occupant being a Stark guard that was sleeping against a nearby tree judging by the snoring she could hear coming from underneath his helm. 'If only I could be asleep still,' Arya thought groggily as she turned her eyes towards the sky, where the sun was just starting to really lighten up the sky. 'The sun isn't even up…and yet here I am. Teaching my brother his footwork…and I'm not even allowed a stick to practice myself! It's…so unfair!'
Though, she supposed it could've been a lot worse considering this was part of her punishment for her actions during the joust. After she had jumped in to save the fool Loras from the Mountain she knew that she was in for the dressing down of her life from her father, and he had not disappointed. Once he'd gotten around to it that is. He had summoned her to his tent that very night, but he didn't start in on her right away. Oh no, she would've actually preferred that! Instead, he just had her sit there in his tent in silence as he went about getting ready for the evening. It was…unbearable! He didn't yell at her or berate her or…or anything! What made it worse was that she knew it was coming, but he just…he just kept silent. When she finally broke and told him to just start yelling at her or calling her an idiot or whatever else he wanted, he just stared at her in…disappointment. And that look, by the Force that look in his eyes was worse than anything he could have said! Even when he did start in on her, he never once raised his voice. He just talked calmly about how…disappointed he was in her. Not necessarily for her actions to save another, he was proud of her for being willing to do that. But what angered him was her own lack of discretion and self-preservation.
By the time he was finished, she seriously wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear from her father's gaze. He'd taken her lightsaber from her, stating that she would get it back only when he felt she was truly ready to hold it again. That she would also be spending her time teaching her brother Bran his forms until further notice. To go along with that, she was not allowed to wield even a stick as a weapon unless in defense of her life. If he didn't think she understood the lesson, then he would keep her lightsaber for longer and he would bar her from training of any kind for a long, long time.
So now, here she was. In the godswood before even the sun was in the sky teaching her brother his forms one step at a time. It wasn't that her brother was bad. He truly wasn't. He just…wasn't Jon or Robb and certainly not Master Nox. She knew her brother badly wanted to follow in their older brothers' footsteps and be a warrior that was known and respected throughout the land. But…she just couldn't see that ever happening. By the Force, he even had trouble beating Sansa in a spar! But while he might not ever be a warrior, his ability with the Force was almost frightening. He just… understood almost every lesson Master Nox taught them no matter how hard she, or any of the others, found it. Honestly, if he just gave up on this silly idea of his becoming the next Master Nox with the blade and instead focused on his Force studies… Well, he could become the next Master Nox with the Force!
Flourishing, Bran finished the set with a twisting jump. But his footwork was again off, making him land off center, causing him to lose his balance and stumble several paces off to the side before righting himself, nearly losing his hold on his wooden training blade in the process.
"Whoa! That was amazing!"
Arya wanted to kick herself as she only just kept herself from jumping at the unexpected small voice coming from behind them. Turning, Arya was fully ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind for the interruption. As it was, she just barely managed to keep herself from saying something stupid when she saw who it was that was standing just a short distance down the walking path from them.
"Um…Prince Tommen…Princess Myrcella," Arya said awkwardly, wanting to hide herself as she attempted to curtsey. 'It's expected, Arya! If you don't greet the Prince and Princess properly, then father will hear about it! And then it'll be even longer until he gives you your saberstaff back!'
Beside her, her brother quickly bowed at the waist. Off to the side, the formerly sleeping Stark guard suddenly snapped awake. He awkwardly rolled from his position and into a kneeling one with his head bowed.
"Please rise, there is no need," Princess Myrcella said with a smile that reminded Arya far too much of her sister Sansa. 'Wonderful…Another perfect lady…or I guess Princess, in this case.'
As she stood back up, Arya briefly noticed the Kingsguard standing behind the two, it was the foul faced one that Robb had told her had been the one that came to the northern camp to 'arrest' him. Which immediately meant that Arya did not like the idiot. That and he just felt…wrong. And what was more, whenever he looked at the Princess or herself, she felt… Well, she wasn't sure what it was. But all she knew was that she did not like it. Not one bit at all.
"That—That was amazing!" Whereas the Princess was every bit the proper lady just like Sansa, the Prince was not. In a heartbeat, he crossed the remaining distance between them and was nearly jumping in place in excitement. "That was so amazing! Can you show me how to move like that? Please?"
Arya was, well, taken aback by the sheer…excitement in the prince. It was definitely not something she expected. But more than that it…'By the gods…Is this what I was like when I first wanted to learn with my brothers and then under Master Nox? Was I really this…this annoying?'
"Umm, I – uh," Arya stuttered, cursing herself as she stared at the big green eyes of the prince that was all but begging before her. "I, umm…guess I can show you some steps…just like I'm showing Bran here."
The prince's smile grew even wider as he immediately began looking around. Seeing something on the ground, the prince went over and picked up a large stick before moving to stand next to Bran. "You're Arya Stark, right? And you're Bran Stark, right?" the prince asked, or rather stated as he held the stick up like he was holding a sword. "Please, show me what you can! I cannot wait to learn from you!"
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the Princess pick a suitable place to sit and, while carefully folding her dress around her, sat down on the soft grass to watch her, Arya Stark, teach the prince how to move with a blade. Sighing at the thought of having to teach yet another how to move, and this one a Prince which meant he was probably going to be a spoiled brat just like the other Prince, Arya stepped up beside the young Prince and spread her feet. "First, you need to set your feet apart the same distance as your shoulders. And – do you prefer your right or left hand? Right? Then move your right foot back slightly so that you have a good starting position."
Arya wasn't sure just how long she spent teaching her brother and this little Prince how to move, but as she looked up and noticed that the sun was nearly at midday, she had to grudgingly admit that she had to eat her own words about the prince. Despite her pushing him almost as hard as she was her brother, though not nearly as hard as she pushed herself during training, the young Prince never once complained or threw a tantrum. When he fell, he simply got back up and tried again, picking up right where he failed. And as the sun began to shift past midday, Arya found that she was actually…enjoying teaching the young Prince and her brother. When that had started to happen, she had no idea. But seeing her brother and the prince smile widely and listening to the Princess clap and cheer as the Prince completed the most basic of forms made her feel…proud? It was…something she was not expecting. But it was there. She was actually…proud of having taught the prince the most basic of footwork and it made her feel good. 'Perhaps this…isn't too bad, I guess.'
"Well, dog, what do we have here?"
That was to say that Arya had been enjoying her time teaching until that voice interrupted. It caused Princess Myrcella to tense and Prince Tommen to freeze almost completely. Standing within the small clearing within the godswood was none other than the one person that she never wanted to see again, the Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon. And standing just behind him was an imposing man, the same man her sister Sansa had healed during the opening feast a few days past, Sandor Clegane. The Hound as she'd heard others refer to him.
"What do you want, Joffrey?"
Arya had been so focused on Joffrey and her anger at him that she hadn't even realized that Myrcella had risen from her place on the ground and purposefully put herself between Joffrey and the rest of them.
Joffrey's glare didn't lessen, rather it was only added to as he smirked at his sister. The look was…disgusting. One that not even Sansa had given her when they were fighting with each other. "I heard that the cowardly she-wolf was trying to teach my pathetic brother how to fight. It sounded so hilarious that I just had to come and see it for myself."
Arya felt herself go still at what he called her. 'The cowardly she-wolf?' she repeated. Rage, pure rage coursed through her as she wanted—no, needed—to prove that she was not a coward! Her fingers twitched, itching to reach for her lightsaber that was always on her hip, only to find it missing. Still with her father because of her actions.
"She's not a coward, Joffrey," the Princess said, coming to Arya's defense.
Joffrey just smirked wider. "Of course she is. She pulled her fancy weapon, then turned coward the moment she was facing a true opponent, not one made of straw. Pathetic, really. Though I don't expect much more from a pack of mangy dogs."
She was going to kill him. Lightsaber or no, she was going to kill him! "Like you would do any better, Joffrey!" Tommen spoke up next from Arya's side. "She's not a coward! She put herself between the Mountain and a defenseless knight! Besides, I was sitting next to you, Joffrey. When the Mountain killed his horse, you went completely still in terror as well! If Lady Arya is a coward like you say, then you, brother, are something far, far worse!"
The prince took a step back, clearly shocked at the smaller Prince standing up against him. Honestly, Arya was more than a little shocked as well. Not because the little Prince stood up against his brother, but rather because of the anger, the hatred, the younger boy had towards the older. Snarling, Joffrey stepped forward until he was right in front of his little brother. "Be quiet, spare. I'm not a pathetic little fawn like you pretend to be. I'm a lion. Lions eat fawns. A lesson I thought you would've learned by now…but apparently, I need to teach it to you again."
Arya had no idea what the little pounce meant by that, but when she saw the Princess freeze up and the younger Prince go still, she assumed it wasn't good. But then something happened that she never would've expected. The younger Prince reacted to his brother's strange threat with his fist. The blow, while unexpected, wasn't enough to knock the large boy on his arse as much as Arya would've loved to see that. But it was enough to stagger the older Prince and make him clutch at his eye in pain.
Looking around, Arya took a quick measure of everyone as Joffrey clutched at his quickly reddening eye. The Kingsguard who'd come with Myrcella and Tommen was just standing like a bump on a log doing absolutely nothing. The Hound was not much better, but she could see that the large man was ready to intervene if things got too far out of hand. Myrcella was staring in surprise at her brothers, while Bran was inching his way behind Arya. Their own Stark guard, the man was apparently trying to make himself invisible considering what was going on. And Tommen, the young Prince was standing tall, his fists raised and ready to fight. Just as Arya had been teaching him not just a few moments ago.
Gingerly touching his puffing eye, Arya could feel the anger, the hatred and disgust rolling off of Joffrey as the older Prince glared at his brother. "You–You…How dare you! I am the Crown Prince! And you are nothing! Nothing!"
Arya's blood went cold as she watched Joffrey quickly pull his sword clear of its sheath. It wasn't a lightsaber, Valyrian, or even Northern steel. But it was still live steel. Live steel that the prince was bearing against his own younger—unarmed—brother. Setting her feet, Arya prepared to jump in and stop whatever was about to happen. But before she could, another took the option away from her. The Hound moved faster than she thought a man his size could, seizing the crossguard of the Prince's sword and roughly yanking it away from the Prince.
"Hound! How dare you lay a hand on the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms!" the Kingsgaurd yelled, the first words he'd spoken since arriving, while drawing his sword.
"Fuck off, Blount," the Hound growled, still holding onto the prince's sword while seemingly completely fine with the fact that he was being threatened by a member of the Kingsguard. "I'm following the orders of the King, remember? He told all of you white cloaked fucks that you're supposed to be keeping the prince from getting into trouble or making a fool of himself. I think drawing his sword on his younger brother meets both. So why did I need to step in when you should have, Blount?"
The Kingsguard didn't say anything, preferring instead to just stand there and glare at the Hound. After getting over his surprise at having his sword so quickly and easily pulled from his hand, Joffrey went red and began yelling at his sworn shield. "How dare you lay a hand on me, dog!"
The Hound remained completely impassive. Apparently, this wasn't the first time the prince had yelled at him for something. "I didn't lay a hand on you, my Prince. I merely took your sword from you before you did something…foolish."
If possible, Joffrey went even redder, and he began to shake. "When I tell my mother—"
"If I were you, my Prince, I'd be far more worried about what your father, the King, will be saying to you when he learns that you tried to pull live steel against your unarmed brother, sister, and two of the Starks."
The threat of the King learning of his actions was apparently enough to put some sense into the Crown Prince. Visibly taking control of himself, Joffrey cast one more hateful glance towards all of them before quickly turning around and marching away. "Come, dog. We're leaving these kids to their pathetic games."
The moment the Crown Pounce, Arya refused to think of him as a Prince anymore, was out of sight, Tommen collapsed like a puppet who'd had its strings cut. "Tommen!" the Princess yelled, rushing to her brother's side.
Surprising even herself, Arya found herself beside the kneeling Prince, who was staring blankly where his brother had disappeared, before Myrcella could even reach him. "Umm," she said lamely. Gods, what was she supposed to say? "That, umm… That was a good punch there."
The prince smiled as he finally looked away from where his brother had gone and down towards his still tightly clenched fists. "It was…wasn't it?"
"It was… But it was stupid, Tommen," Myrcella added as she reached out and grabbed her brother's hand to examine it. "You know, Joffrey…You know that he'll go to mother and—"
"Then we'll go to father, if he does," Tommen said, surprising Arya at the firmness in his voice. "Besides, do you really think Joffrey will admit that I punched him? He'd be too embarrassed to admit I gave him a black eye."
Sighing, Myrcella shook her head and dropped his hand. "Maybe, Tommen. But it'd be best if we go and speak to father first before Joffrey can spread whatever tale he wants. Lady Arya Stark, Lord Bran Stark. It was a pleasure meeting both of you this morning. And…thank you for taking time to teach Tommen a few things."
"Yes, thank you, Lady Arya, Lord Bran," Tommen said quickly while smiling and bowing to the two of them. "I had a lot of fun today! One of the first times I've ever had fun during this type of training and…and you're a really good teacher, Lady Arya! Do you think we can do this again? You teaching me, I mean."
Arya was at a complete loss as the young prince's excitement nearly overwhelmed her. 'By the gods and the Force…was this what I was like when I wanted Robb, Jon, and Master Nox to train me? If so…I owe them all apologies.' Instead of saying that aloud however, she nodded to the young prince. "Of course, your grace. I would be happy to." She really wouldn't…But maybe by doing this, she could prove to her father and Master Nox that she deserved to have her saberstaff back.
The young Prince grinned widely, and even the Princess smiled slightly. "Then until next we meet, Lady Arya," Tommen said with a wide smile before turning around and quickly making his way out of the godswood with the Princess right next to him and the Kingsguard trailing behind the two of them.
"I – I'm not a lady!" Arya called out too late as the three were already well out of earshot by the time she could speak. Turning back to her brother, she saw that Bran was fighting a losing battle against holding in his laughter. "Oh…wrong decision, brother." She grinned as several thoughts came to mind about how she could put her brother through the hells. "Time for some 'real' training, dear brother."
Sitting in a light meditative state with his hand raised, Nox listened and watched through the Force as the individual in front of him slowly breathed in and out. "Again," Nox said, drawing a short cough from King Robert Baratheon, who was the one seated in front of him.
The King did not say anything, he just breathed in deep, held his breath for a few moments, then released it in a raspy cough as small little blood droplets leapt from his mouth. "Fuck, Sorcerer," Robert coughed, raising a cloth to his lips to catch the blood that was leaving him. "How many times do you want me to breathe like this?"
"That was the last time," Nox said, rising from his seated position behind the King and moving around to the front of the King and retaking his seat next to Ned Stark, the only other occupant of the secluded room.
The King had called the two of them into a private conference to discuss matters of the realm. But as soon as the doors were shut and Nox made sure there were no unwanted ears, the King had requested, well begged almost, for Nox to examine him and his condition.
"How long did your Maester give you?" Nox asked, not having to specify what exactly he was asking about as the meaning was clear to all three of them.
"Five years…maybe ten if I actually took care of myself," Robert answered, his coughing fit finally subsiding as he lowered the now thoroughly bloodied cloth and throwing the offending piece in the nearby fireplace to burn.
Nodding, Nox thought about what he had seen during his own examination. "Unfortunately, I would have to say he was generous on that estimation. The damage to your lungs is…extensive. I've done what I can to heal some of the damage. But it has bought you a year, perhaps two, before you will be right back in the same situation you are in now."
Nodding, the King pulled out another kerchief to wipe at his mouth. "Can't you just…wave your hand and do your magic to remove the illness? Or perhaps Ned's daughter could? I heard she healed your wife from the brink of death."
"Healing an illness is different than healing physical damage done to the body," Nox tried to explain. "Think of it like a war taking place inside your body and this illness is the invading army. There are…aspects within you that act as defenders, but your physical body is more of a keep rather than its defenders. I have repaired what damage I could to your 'keep', as it were, but I cannot remove the invaders from your body."
The analogy was almost oversimplistic considering the topic of discussion, but it served to get his point across. "Your 'Force' truly cannot remove these invaders then?" Robert asked, to which Nox shook his head.
"There are some Force healers who could heal illnesses. I, unfortunately, am not one of them. Sansa could perhaps one day get to that point. But it will be a decade before she will be capable of even curing an individual of a simple sniffle."
"So, either way, I'm fucked. Just a question of whether I want to get fucked by the Stranger sooner or later," Robert sighed tossing the second kerchief into the fire and watching it burn. "But before I die…I need to fix the fucking mess I've made of the Seven Kingdoms. Ned…you helped me win the throne and I did fuck all to repay you. Then the Iron Born cunts made a mess of the cost, and it was you and Nox here that truly brought them to heel. Then Nox you discovered what that idiot Lannister should've told me years ago and saved King's Landing. Hells, I am not good at this. I've fucked things up bad, Ned, Nox…and now I need you two to help me try and put things back to right before this fucking illness takes me."
"You've been a good King, Robert," Ned tried to answer diplomatically, but Robert just laughed.
"Ha! Nice one, Ned. I've been a shit King. Sure, I'm no mad fucker looking to burn everyone and everything, but I've done shit all to try and heal the Seven Kingdoms ever since we threw the dragons off the throne. First and foremost…my heir. I didn't march to overthrow one idiot king just to leave my kingdom in the hands of another idiot. I need you two to help me teach my idiot son Joffrey how to be a good and just king. A hard task, I know… But I know that you two more than anyone else can perhaps shape that boy into something resembling a King before I pass on."
Nox doubted that. He had met more than his fair share of rulers and their heirs in his time. Hells, he'd killed more than his fair share of both during his time on the Dark Council. He felt he was a decent judge of who would make a decent ruler in the future. Joffrey had none of the qualities that he would look for when choosing a ruler. "And if by chance neither Ned or myself believe the boy capable?" Nox asked, drawing a sharp look from Ned and a sigh from Robert.
"Truthfully, Sorcerer? If both of you believe that you cannot make something of the boy before I die…then I will disinherit him and name Tommen as my heir. Hells, I'm sure there are no shortages among your own men that believe I should do so now and march his ass to the Wall. But as much as I would…well I won't say 'love to do so' because he is still my son, it'll cause no shortages of problems. His bitch of a mother being the most of them. But if it means peace and stability after my death, then that is what I will do."
Robert wasn't just saying the words. He truly meant it. If Nox was still the same man he'd been during his time on the Dark Council, he simply would've killed Joffrey for the stunt he pulled with Robb. But he wasn't that man, not fully at least. And he could understand to a degree why Robert was hesitant. He might be embarrassed or even at times disgusted with Joffrey. But, in the end, he was still the man's son.
"We'll do what we can for him, Robert," Ned promised the man.
"Thank you, Ned…and you, Nox," Robert sighed, the weight of what he'd just decided clearly pressing down on him. "Turning that boy into a just and honorable king might be a fool's errand, but I still need to try. And with you two aiding in the endeavor, there might just be some semblance of hope for the boy."
Nox doubted it. He'd met more than his fair share of rulers in his time. Good leaders. Poor leaders. Cowards and tyrants. Idiots and fools. Name a stereotype of a leader and Nox had had dealings with them. Joffrey…He had all the makings of a piss poor idiot tyrant of a leader. He doubted there would be anything Ned, or even he, could do to change that. No, Nox knew who should take the throne after Robert. It would just be a matter of juggling events to reach his desired outcome. Despite what many may think, just because he still identified as a Dark Lord of the Sith, it did not mean that he wanted rivers of bloodshed to reach his goals. Not that there wouldn't be bloodshed. But he wanted to minimize it as much as possible. Especially considering what was coming. And speaking of what was to come.
"Unfortunately, my teaching of your son will be…delayed." Nox said, drawing looks from both Ned and Robert. "I sensed that there has been a significant disturbance in the Force, both at Winterfell and as far as the Wall and perhaps even further. While I have the utmost faith in Jon and Robb to handle almost anything that comes their way… This disturbance is one that I feel I must look into myself."
Robert was clearly not pleased while Ned was, curious and concerned about whatever it was that Nox sensed in the North. "I already announced your position and your taking of the fucking seat on the Small Council, Nox," the king growled in annoyance. "You can't just back away now."
"And I don't plan too," Nox replied calmly. "But the fact remains that this is something that I need to look into. The seat will not be vacant. It's customary for a Small Council member to appoint another to their position while they are away, is it not? And I will be doing the same."
"Who will you be appointing to your seat?" Robert grumbled, no doubt knowing that trying to tell Nox to do something would not go over well.
"Perhaps the second most knowledgeable person on matters of the arcane in Westeros, save for my Apprentices and Acolytes, who are all too young to take up such a position. My wife, Nyra."
Robert blinked and leaned back in his seat, "I wasn't aware that your wife had this…Force as you called it."
"And I wasn't aware that having a connection to the Force was a necessity to taking up the position on the Small Council," Nox countered, not unkindly. "But as for her connection to the Force… She has one. Faint, but present. And strangely it seemed to have been…increased after the passing of the Red Comet. Another oddity that requires my attention but that can wait. For now, I need to travel to Winterfell and discover what has transpired in the North before heading to the Wall in order to look into the disturbance I felt. Once I've satisfied myself on both counts, I will take a ship from Eastwatch on the Wall and sail for King's Landing."
Robert grumbled, clearly unhappy about Nox's decision, but realizing he was powerless to stop it. "Fine. Hells, if this wife of yours is even half as competent as you two say she is—"
"She is," Nox and Ned cut in almost at the same time.
"—then maybe between Ned and her, they can clean up my Small Council. Gods know I need all the help I can get on that front now with Jon taken from us and Stannis all but abandoning his post with hardly a 'by your leave'."
Nox nodded, but there was…doubt. Concern. A premonition of danger. He was never one to coddle anyone. He had never been shielded from the galaxy. So, why should he shield others from the hardships and dangers of life? But even still… He had…concerns about sending his wife, his light, away. It wasn't the impending separation that caused his unease. No, he and Nyra had been separated for weeks, months, at a time and he had not felt uneasy about leaving her. But all of those times she was safe in the heart of the North. This time, he would be leaving her again for weeks or maybe even months. And unlike before, instead of being safe in the North, she would be in a cesspool of power-grabbing fools that made up the bulk of King's Landing. The very thought of which was almost enough to change his mind regarding the matter. But…this decision was not one of his own making. Nyra had actually been the one to make the suggestion when he told her that he would have to return to the North to investigate the effects that the red comet had had. And if there was one thing about his wife, once she'd made her mind up regarding something, there was no changing her course.
So, for now, he would take the few precious days he had to give his wife the few tools he could in order to help her navigate the festering waste that she was about to wade into. And hope to the Force that his ill premonitions were nothing more than him being overly cautious with his wife. If not…then may the Force or whatever deities exist grant mercy on any who would see harm come to his light. Because he would not.