Domesticated Wolf(Arya Ladyfication) (Patreon)

Arya hadn't expected to ever be giving the gift at the behest of a family member, especially not for her sister of all people. Sansa was always too stuck up for assassination or anything underhanded, but time changed people obviously. It had definitely changed her, but she still felt suspicious of why her sister was coming to her when she had others under her command.

"Arya you don't seem thrilled about this work. I thought you liked doing this kind of thing."

"It just feels weird to have my sister asking me alright? Th'war's done! I was thinking I'd go out exploring or popping over to Hot Pie's place and getting some free-"

"You're a lady Arya. There's no need to galavant with the peasants."

"Ugh I guess some things never change do they? I'll never be a lady and Hot Pie's not a peasant he's Hot Pie! Who the 'ell do you want dead?!"

"Quiet Arya. I figured assassination would have made you be more delicate about these things. Well at least you'll have to be to kill the Prince of Pentos's cousin."

Arya balked for a second, trying to understand why in all seven hells a Pentoshi noble would be on her kill list, the gears in her head working double time. Sansa took this rare moment of silence to explain.

"I see you're confused. This particular prince has been thwarting all of our trade deals with the free cities, demanding excessive tributes from us when we're trying to broker trade due to our current lacking. The last winter was hard on all of us and we need this trade to happen. You're going to have to mingle with the other nobles for a period to get close to him since servants aren't allowed access to their chambers. You have experience with this kind of thing correct?"

Surprisingly she hadn't, all of her targets relatively lower on the social hierarchy, in fact most of her identities had been people of lower status. She had no experience with princes past Joffrey who was hardly a good comparison to Pentoshi nobility.

Sansa noticed the reluctance, smirking as she asked, "Oh is this too difficult for you? I can always try something-"

"NO!"

Sansa had to suppress her smile, knowing that the second she made it a challenge, Arya wouldn't be able to help herself.

"I'll show you I can be a lady just as easily as I can be anyone else!"

The two sisters ended up walking to an isolated part of Winterfell, near where the holding cells were and the makeshift sept mom used. She figured it had to do with privacy or something since she knew how easy it was for spies to be about a place. The one annoying thing was the light that flashed from the 7 pointed crystal. It kept blasting all sorts of weird colors at them as the sun passed through, giving Arya a slight migraine. This was why she preferred the old gods or the Many Faced, it was far simpler without the need for annoying ornamentation. Unfortunately, ornamentation seemed to be all these Lady Lessons were about.

Sansa went over the basics of etiquette, how to play your part at a meal or what was expected of someone as a lady, making sure to explain things slowly as the minutes passed. Slowly, the consistent strobing of the crystal, the boring nature of the lesson, all of it built up as Arya's eyes started drooping, her lids twitching as she tried to stay awake. At that point Sansa seemed to talk even slower, only stopping when she noticed her sister's eyes glazed and vacant. At that point the real plan could begin. Sansa still had a few tinctures from her time at the vale, opening a few and letting them waft into Arya's half conscious state, each of them there to help the smeller be more open to suggestion as she began to repeat in a droning tone, "You are a lady. You like ladylike things. You love your lessons. You want to be everything your sister is. You are a lady. You like..."

Hours later Arya awoke, rubbing her head and feeling like she had just had a bad dream, unsure what she was feeling.

"Very good Arya, this time tomorrow as well. How'd you like your first day?"

Not wanting to admit she had kind of dozed off, Arya just shrugged and went, "Wasn't too bad I guess."

Arya felt strange after, still feeling a bit dazed and sleepy, retiring early to her chambers and hoping a night's rest would clear her mind. Her dreams were strange, one of her usual hunting ones only partway through she tripped, finding herself snagged in silks. The trappings tightened the more she fought them, until finally her head had pulled free. Looking down, the trappings were now a dress, free flowing and made of different shades of grey.

Even she had to admit it was beautiful, though she still tried to tear at it. Looking up, the forest had been replaced by a dinner table in a fancy hall and suddenly everyone there was laughing at her. They seemed to think she was some kind of freak, making fun of her manners as the laughter rang on, building in volume as her anger reciprocated. Looking at the silverware before her, she quickly grabbed a small, sharp knife and began stabbing at the nearest mocker, only for her blows to pass through, their bodies immaterial. That just brought on more laughter, her futile attempts flailing about until she was left ashamed, feeling like she was ready to break down as she awoke with a start.

She was grumpy the rest of the morning, giving ugly looks at anyone who passed her way. When it came time for elegance lessons, it was almost a relief, Arya wanting to get out of her dark thoughts. Surprisingly, it didn't take long to get absorbed into the etiquette lessons as Sansa went through step by step on which cutlery to use and when, how to position yourself, proper posture. The flashing lights were less annoying too, her stare going a bit glossy with a dazed smile as the lessons continued, a bubbly warmth spreading.

"Uurgh."

Arya had to shake her head, feeling out of it. Even if it felt nice, her instincts were still telling her something was off, though as much as she tried to look for danger, there wasn't much past her sister's sewing needles. On second thought, those were rather dangerous, dangerously boring, but as she snickered at the thought, Sansa scolded her, "No random snickering. You can giggle with ladies of similar stature or at one of the men's jokes, but making a sound like that will come off as not just rude, but demeaning to the host."

Usually there was a little satisfied thrill at making her sister annoyed, but it wasn't there, only a negative hollowness at the negativity.

"Sorry Sansa."

It wasn't surprising that Arya was becoming less confrontational, Sansa had literally spent hours conditioning her the day before. Even now she had the room bathing in scents for submissiveness, a few smelling-salts covertly stuffed into her own nose as the fumes worked their magic on Arya. Even if she didn't notice the effects Sansa sure did, Arya's lips curling up into brighter smiles as the lesson turned on, moments of resistance lost in a confused daze as the lights continued flashing, her movements mirroring Sansa's in a mock meal until the sun was out, the crystal unable to do its job without it.

"Alright Arya, that's enough for today. Tomorrow will be sewing and leisure."

"Sewing? But why do I need to know that? It's not like he'll be privately-"

"A lady must know how to sew! It's crucial to this Arya. You said you'd follow my instructions!"

The last glimmers of sunset sent a few sparks into Arya's eyes, her annoyance fading to a dull acceptance.

"Fine. I'll do it. I'm sorry-"

"And stop raising your voice! A lady should try to keep an indoor voice at all times."

"I'm so- I'm sorry Sansa..."

At dinner, Arya tried eating how she normally did, only to find there was a mental block there. It just didn't feel good or right. Naturally, when she moved to eating elegantly that wonderful warmth from before blossomed, the daze returning to her eyes the more elegantly she ate. Again something felt wrong, but she didn't know quite what. Elegance was just starting to feel better. It even made the food taste better, though that could have just been the additive Sansa had added without Arya's knowledge.

That night Arya tossed about her bed, moaning as her stomach gurgled, her body hot and needy as she had a strange dream. Usually her perverted dreams, seldom as they were, had her on top and in charge, but this time she was the one being dominated, some faceless noble dominating her, having his way with her helpless, weak, sexy-

Arya gasped as she woke up to damp sheets between her legs, her body achy yet refreshed. Her simple undershirt had torn amidst her nightly thrashing it seemed, though the strangeness of that was dulled by the warm tingles running through her. Looking in the mirror at her naked form, something felt strange. Her figure seemed more womanly, fuller in all the right places and her hair seemed to have added a few inches overnight, wild tangles brushing against her shoulders, every inch of her formerly wiry frame plump and eye catching. And yet, the more she focused on the changes, the less they seemed to matter. In fact thinking about what she used to look like held that same uncomfortable feeling from yesterday and it was much nicer to feel tingly and elegant and-

"Arya where have you been?! You're late to your lesson! Though it seems you could use some grooming before we go."

Arya was going to argue, but Sansa had on the most lovely perfume, her sister dabbing some onto her on both shoulders, the tips of her breasts and between her legs, the smell intoxicating as the warm tingles intensified.

"You love it when I do your hair, it feels wonderful to have it elegantly styled."

Arya nodded, her head bobbing as Sansa worked at the tangled mess with a comb, the bone teeth of it making quick work of the mess as it slowly became more manageable. Patches of Arya's skin was starting to peel, all her scars and roughness repelled as underneath were smooth, perfectly moisturized skin, befitting a lady pampered all her life rather than the years of hard work and tough living she had endured. The more Arya tried to fight it the more uncomfortable she felt, and every bit of makeup Sansa applied made that nice feeling grow and throb. All of her resistance was quickly subsumed by a submissive desire to just let her sister handle things, Arya cooing as she enjoyed every step of the makeover.

Sansa styled her hair to part on the left, picking a few tufts to stand up stylishly while letting the rest straighten. When she brought out the polish, Arya giggled. It was specially ordered from Qarth, made by shadowbinders in Asshai. The results were impressive, each nail growing as she applied it, the fingers shifting as they lost any skill with a sword, different muscle memory setting in with what little muscle was there. As she applied it Sansa whispered in her sister's ears, dabbing a bit more perfume under her nose as Arya moaned.

"You were always feminine. You were always submissive. You hate disobeying orders. You want a nice, strong man to dominate you. You desperately want a husband..."

On she droned as she painted Arya's toes, the enchantments working to lengthen her legs, each toe arching the foot until they were molded for heels. It was hard to imagine this was the same skinny, underfed girl from a few days ago, especially as her curves continued to surge. Sansa found herself a little jealous as her sister's legs thickened nicely, her rear firm and plump with hips wide enough to birth an entire litter of children. Her body was a bit lopsided though, Sansa only doing her right hand and foot, passing the brush and polish to her sister as she whispered what to do, Arya more than happy to even it out as she began applying it like she had been doing makeup her entire life. Wetness trickled down from between her legs, Arya's moans rising to waifish squeaks as her breasts surged further. Still, Sansa found room for betterment in her face as she set about fixing any features she found mousy.

Lip wax puffed them out mostly in the center, pulling Arya's face in as her overbite fixed itself, her horseface puckered into plump, eye catching beauty. Foundation, blush and other lotions fixed up the rest, each delicate stroke raising her cheekbones, adjusting her ears, giving her eyes that extra bit of definition as their corners angled, the lashes accentuated. The longest part was her nose, its puggish shape stubbornly refusing to budge at first, Sansa slowly whittling it down before sloping it into an appealing curve. The dresses for the new Arya were still being tailored, Sansa noting they'd have to take the chest out a bit more than she had expected, but not wanting to leave her in the nude some racy undergarments were added in the style of the free cities. Which one, Sansa didn't know, but the prince's cousin had been generous in sharing what he liked and that was all that mattered. Once the last gold bangle had been added, her sister half unrecognizable, Sansa beamed over the finished product.

"How do you feel Arya?"

The question seemed to startle her back to consciousness, and even then her words had an airier tone to them, all of her gruffness ironed out.

"Huh? Oh my appearance? Why I think I look marvelous Sansa. Splendid! Though er, oh this is embarrassing, but I feel as if I am forgetting something rather important. I know it is rather silly but did I, did I always look like this?"

Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Of course you did. Don't you remember all those balls father used to have us attend, all of our septa's lessons? Now hurry, we have an appointment with the blacksmith. It isn't proper of a lady to keep a man waiting now hurry."

Arya did as commanded, pleasing her sister when between her usual scruffy workmanlike outfits, she only had to consider for a second before picking one of the dresses her sister had planted there overnight, slipping on an absurd pair of heels as she followed. Her smalltalk still needed some work, the conditioning not fully done as her attempts faltered consistently. She spoke of wanting to fight in a tourney until Sansa brought up some of the strong men fighting, that glazed look appearing once more as Arya took a more passive role in her flights of fancy. When they reached the blacksmiths though, Arya had a confused look on her face, the bellows roaring, a thin spike of a sword resting in the blacksmith's arms as Sansa nodded.

For a second Arya panicked, knowing that thin chunk of metal was important to her somehow, yet that didn't make sense. There was that awful nausea in her stomach when she went to grab for it, two sides of her raging as she stumbled, Sansa offering her support. And then it was melting, the blade turning red, distorting as it was beaten into molten shards. Each blow was felt in Arya's core, and in those shattered sections, bliss swelled. When the entire thing had been melted, Arya was left moaning, unable to remember why she cared so much as it was poured into better molds, the useless sword cooling to sewing needles.

The following weeks of training ironed out any kinks remaining in her personality, Sansa's mannerisms and teachings soaked up like a sponge in the sparkling lights of their area. Sansa knew how much Arya loved the sept's crystal and the ways it sparkled, or at least she insisted she did as one was left to hang in her room, Arya's waking life filled with pretty colors and sweet perfumes. Meals were shared with her sister as well, Sansa wanting to make sure she wasn't slacking off between lessons. Sewing was becoming easy for her, though after a week of successes, Arya forgot she ever had trouble with it, or that she disliked it! Could you imagine not loving something so refined and dainty and wonderful? A few weeks later she had a thought, questioning, "Sister, what are we sewing? You never did tell me."

Sansa smiled, as if partaking in a joke only she knew.

"It's a welcoming banner for your husband. I do know how much you've been looking forward to his arrival. He's cousin to the current Prince of Pentos. This marriage will forever bond our house to the rich spice markets and summer trading of the Free Cities. It was a lot of work to arrange this."

Arya bit her lip, mulling over that.

"I'm confused Sansa, wasn't I supposed to kill him?"

There was an awkward silence, broken by Sansa laughing, Arya joining her. She didn't know why she was laughing, but it felt right, Sansa spraying another burst of perfume as she giggled out, "Pfft oh Arya that would be absurd. Why would you want to kill your husband? He's such a strong, manly man. And he's quite blunt and bossy. I know how much you love someone strong to order you around. Oh and there's a surprise waiting for you in your bedroom once we're done."

Arya excitedly skipped back to her chambers, giggling all the way there at the strange thoughts slowly vanishing from her empty little head. She didn't know where these ideas came from, of course she was excited for her husband. It was so nice to have a sister who supported her. Her excited squeal echoed down the halls when she saw the lovely menagerie of dresses, all freshly tailored, sewn and delivered. Just in time too! The prince was coming next week! Though she'd never say such dirty things in public, her loins were dripping at the thought of her husband, and given her aroused state, she was thrilled to see the dresses weren't the only surprise Sansa had left. Sitting on her bed was an oiled up whore from the pleasure houses of Lys, ready to teach her as many of the seven sighs as she could in the week to follow.

Sansa peered from her peep hole, satisfied that the reconditioning was done as her sister's moans were untroubled by trauma or resistance, her mind full of nothing but etiquette, ladylike things and of course, pleasuring her soon to be husband. It had been easier than she could have hoped, her nerves on edge when she had initially blundered in this political marriage, certain Arya would never agree. It was so convenient to have daughters in a family, perfect pawns to mold and trade for political power, though Sansa made sure she would never be in that position. It was just a shame she only had one sister to change. Some of the tales of Yi Ti sounded like the stuff of storybooks, though she knew by now not to believe every fairy tail that crossed her path. Though obviously given their history of trade it must be a bustling region. And any message sent to them of establishing relations would take months if not years. That was plenty of time to mold another sibling, and it wasn't like Jon was doing much these days. And my, did it sound ever so delightful to turn a Jon into a Jane as their power grew...