When Arry was first dragged to Kings Landing alongside his father, Eddard Stark, he was rather unenthused. He wanted to explore and train all day, but his father was insistant that he got to know the dark-haired beauty he was betrothed to. A woman of House Baratheon. The Princess.

He often snuck away from his meetings with her, but she didn't ever seem angered. If she was angered or felt dishonoured by it, Arry was sure his father would have given him a talking to. At that time, Arry would have sulked, but now, all Arry wished was for his father to be able to scold him again.

It had been years, but Arry still remembered the day his father was beheaded by the fable-tongued Joffrey. A liar the Prince was, a Prince turned King. And a Prince that had wanted his own sister, Arry's betrothed, dead. All because the smallfolk might have viewed her as the rightful heir due to the rumors of Joffrey being a bastard made of incest.

Arry had taken her with him when he fled Kings Landing. He was a child then, as was she, perhaps a bit older at the time. But now, years later they were late-teens to young adults, adults who spent their youths desperate to thrive, to survive. Arry had figured out many ways of protecting himself and the Princess. Arry always kept her from danger.

However, when both Arry and her were attacked by bandits, he failed to protect her. She had jumped to take a blow meant for Arry, and it was a bad wound that she ended up with. Arry was horrified and panicked, he couldn't lose her too! After killing some bandits anf chasing off the others, Arry was quick to drag her wounded body into a nicely hidden area in the woods where he made a camp for them.

"You could have died."

Arry muttered with a frown as he wrapped the bandage around her wound, his eyes filled with focus and concern. She had been his travelling companion since they were children, he was not about to lose her now.