A Furious Thing

The Kingsroad

She was exactly right. The next two days of packing and preparation were over before they even started, and she soon found herself milling around the East Gate waiting for Sansa. Her sister only came strolling out into the open ground near the East Gate once most of the train was gathered and Ned Stark had gathered their horses,and headed straight for her father. Arya pushed herself away from the castle wall and met the little lady there. She mounted her horse smoothly while Ned helped Sansa onto hers with a gentle hand. Rickon, presumably after a tearful farewell, was ushered out by Septa Mordane, and gathered into their small carriage. The Septa was too old to ride, and her brother was too young. Or, Catelyn thought he was too young. She reasoned that he couldn't ride for very long, and they'd be on horses for days.

"We'll be directly behind the Queen's wheelhouse," he informed them. "An honor. And Sansa will be able to join if Her Grace wishes."

Sansa's eyes widened excitedly. "And is Prince Gendry riding with her? Or does he favor a horse?"

"Robert says Gendry isn't fond of sitting about in carriages," Ned told her, smiling. His eyes flicked towards the small carriage that held his youngest child. Cersei Lannister's was practically double the size of it, painted red and gold.

"He's not a very good rider,"Arya found herself saying without thinking. Their father's smile turned wry, but his eyes issued a small warning. Sansa, on the other hand, seemed personally offended by the comment.

"How do you know?" she cried.

She nodded her head in the Prince's direction. He'd ridden his horse out from the stables, and while he was adequate, Arya knew instantly that could out race him with her eyes closed and her hands bound together.

"I doubt he'd ever need to spend more than an hour on a horse in King's Landing," Sansa shook the critique off. But Arya wasn't saying that Gendry should be a good rider, just that he wasn't one.

She dropped it in favor of spurring her horse onward when the procession stuttered into movement. Ned led them towards the front, towards the monstrosity that was the Queen's carriage. The dust kicked up by the wheels brought tears to her eyes. Bran and Jon joined them soon after, and the four Starks all talked together quietly, unconsciously leaving Arya to her own thoughts.

If she wasn't here by the kindness of her sister she would have begged to go off alone and meet some of the southron servants. She was sure she'd make quick friends. Arya was good at that. But, like Septa Mordane, who doubtless didn't want to be trapped in a carriage with wild little Rickon, Arya couldn't wander off on her own.

That evening, when they stopped at a small inn, all 200 of them, Arya decided she'd be a good maid to her sister. After helping her trudge up the steps- Sansa wasn't nearly as used to riding for long stretches of time as she was- Arya wasn't sure what need to be done

"Uh...would you like me to call for a bath?" she asked stiffly.

Sansa turned, looking even more uncomfortable than she was. "No, no I'm fine. But would mind brushing my hair?"

She jumped to the task, drawing a soft haired brush from the pack Sansa had given her, full of her clothes and personal things. This could be an easy job. What could possibly go wrong?

Unfortunately, the two girls underestimated how long they'd gone cold to one another. After a few moments of clumsiness Sansa snatched the brush away, working at her own hair in a twisted uncomfortable way.

"I can do it!" Arya snapped, grabbing back the comb.

"Obviously not," Sansa retorted, and reached for the brush, but Arya pulled it away, just out of her seated reach. "Give it, now!"