Sans Masque
without a mask
The contest was over. Only one man remained standing in the ring, the champion of the tournament at Winterfell. The ladies leaned forwards in their seats as they awaited the man to remove his helmet, already desiring his attention and the dedication of his win, but one young woman remained slouched in her chair. Arya Stark had little interest in the boring competition; she would rather be wielding the weapons herself instead of dressing fancy and watching. The tight braid in her hair was beginning to itch, her blue gown was too light for the frosty morning, and Sansa’s excited gasps were almost too much for Arya to bear. Another surprised squeak escaped Sansa’s lips as the victor refused to shed his helmet and Arya looked over with a raised eyebrow. As per tourney tradition, the man was taking the wreath of flowers to crown his queen of love and beauty, the moment every unwed lady aside from Arya had been waiting for. He mounted a horse and rode it past Eddard and Catelyn, only to stop before their two daughters. Arya focused on the snorting horse, well prepared for her older sister to receive the attention, but Sansa’s elbow prodding her waist diverted her gaze upwards. Much to everyone’s surprise, the victor was holding the Northern blue wreath out to Arya.
“I don’t want that,” Arya stated, unable to quickly form a polite response.
“Don’t be rude!” Sansa hissed at her little sister, but Arya took no notice. Having attended plenty of tourneys with her father, Arya knew that the acceptance of the wreath would almost certainly lead to a proposal of marriage, something she did not desire. Cornered and without any other choice, Arya spoke her mind.
“I don’t know who you are,” Arya continued when the man didn’t retract his offer. “I cannot accept.”
“Very well, my lady. I shall pursue you another day,” the man replied, his voice muffled by his helmet and unrecognisable to her. Arya’s brow creased.
“And what if I don’t want your admiration?” she questioned.
“I shall not give up on you, my fair lady,” he replied and the worry spread across Arya’s face as she wondered how she could get herself out of the peculiar situation.
“Then at least give me your name,” she suggested, hoping it would aid her to avoid the man.
“Not today,” he said with a grin evident in his tone. Before Arya could respond, he turned his horse and trotted away from her, leaving her shocked and frustrated.
“I wish you would be more polite. You are too old now to act like such a child,” Sansa whispered as the crowd continued to watch Arya and gossip about her.
“I am not a child. I only say what I think instead of masking it with lies like you do,” Arya retorted before pushing past Sansa and heading towards the nearest exit in search of her best friend Gendry to share the news with.
“I don’t want that,” Arya stated, unable to quickly form a polite response.
“Don’t be rude!” Sansa hissed at her little sister, but Arya took no notice. Having attended plenty of tourneys with her father, Arya knew that the acceptance of the wreath would almost certainly lead to a proposal of marriage, something she did not desire. Cornered and without any other choice, Arya spoke her mind.
“I don’t know who you are,” Arya continued when the man didn’t retract his offer. “I cannot accept.”
“Very well, my lady. I shall pursue you another day,” the man replied, his voice muffled by his helmet and unrecognisable to her. Arya’s brow creased.
“And what if I don’t want your admiration?” she questioned.
“I shall not give up on you, my fair lady,” he replied and the worry spread across Arya’s face as she wondered how she could get herself out of the peculiar situation.
“Then at least give me your name,” she suggested, hoping it would aid her to avoid the man.
“Not today,” he said with a grin evident in his tone. Before Arya could respond, he turned his horse and trotted away from her, leaving her shocked and frustrated.
“I wish you would be more polite. You are too old now to act like such a child,” Sansa whispered as the crowd continued to watch Arya and gossip about her.
“I am not a child. I only say what I think instead of masking it with lies like you do,” Arya retorted before pushing past Sansa and heading towards the nearest exit in search of her best friend Gendry to share the news with.