ASOIAF
Symbols
Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.
Summary: Sansa and Arya visit a fortuneteller.
"This is stupid." Arya grumbled for the tenth time as she and Sansa trekked through the woods. It was dark, it was cold, and frankly, Arya would have liked to be in bed back at Riverrun, nice and warm under her furs, Nymeria at her feet, sleeping off a long day of political twaddle. Really, couldn't Sansa and Daenerys negotiate their pact faster? It was only meant to be temporary; why did they have to bother with such little scruples and argue over them like cats and dogs? Or rather, direwolves and dragons.
"Oh, stop whining. Really, Arya, you should be proud of me. Sneaking off in the middle of the night to visit a fortuneteller without a proper escort is certainly something I wouldn't have done the last time we were together." Sansa said. Arya rolled her eyes. "We aren't without escort. Nymeria is with us," Arya gestured vaguely with her head to the tawny direwolf padding quietly beside her, "And her pack is always close behind as well." Arya watched her sister's eyes flick warily over her shoulder into the dark woodland road behind them. Sansa shook herself and rolled her eyes as she once again faced the road ahead. "And to think you used to say I was the spoilsport." She heard her elder sister mutter under her breath. Arya smiled wryly.
"You still are." She said.
"How so?" Sansa asked, surprised.
"You never let me do what I want. You make me sit at those stupid councils when I'd rather be off practicing with Needle, and when I want to play with Nymeria or spend time with Gendry, you make me instead help Mya and Raynald run the household. You make me behave like a lady!" Arya protested. Sansa had the nerve to laugh.
"You are still far from a lady, sweet sister."
"Look at me. I'm in a dress! Still!"
"Blame Daenerys for that. She was the one who procured your wardrobe when she arrived in Westeros with you as her hostage. Just be thankful that it's nothing too frilly. I know how you hate flowery things." Sansa replied easily. Arya huffed.
"I still don't like it." Arya griped.
"When do you like anything? Oh wait," Sansa giggled. Arya gave her sister a scowl in the darkness, hoping that if she couldn't see it due to the darkness, she might at least feel its wrath.
"Shut up." She growled, but Sansa continued to giggle quietly to herself.
"I only tease, Arya." She eventually said, not that comforted Arya at all.
"Whatever. Just, where is this fortuneteller anyways? And what is she? A witch?" Arya questioned, hoping to steer the conversation to less aggravating topics.
"She arrived in a village nearby not even a moon ago. She's no witch. She doesn't use spells or magic. They say she's simply a messenger." Sansa explained.
"A messenger?"
"Yes, a messenger." Sansa said. "They say she has a special connection to whatever forces govern this world. She will ask them questions for you and send you signs that point towards what your future will be. It's up to you to interpret the signs, and sometimes people misinterpret them, but never has she given anyone a wrong one. It's almost prophetic." She said.
"Sounds like a fraud to me." Arya said. She had seen many similar tricks in Braavos and the other Free Cities. She was a bit surprised Sansa would be so taken in with such frivolous things after all she had been through, but Arya supposed that deep down, her sister still loved songs and silks and knights in shining armor. Arya sighed.
"How do you know she hasn't moved on yet? Surely the wind has blown her south by now." Everyone who could seemed to be moving south. If they had no roots keeping them, or only a few, smallfolk and highborns alike fled south to where peace now reigned and where winter's harshness had yet to reach. It would be a very harsh winter, Arya supposed, and she couldn't blame the weaker-willed for wanting somewhere warm and serene after all that had happened. "Apparently she had business in the village that won't be done for some time. That's what one of my maids said, at least. And Pod heard from the other squires that some soldiers had a run in with the fortuneteller while at a tavern in the village. She gave them all signs." Sansa answered.
"What kind of signs?" Arya asked. Sansa shrugged.
"I've heard the signs can be anything from a seed to item of clothing. One of the soldiers had one of his own boots turn out to be a sign." Arya looked at her sister disbelievingly.
"This is growing more ridiculous by the minute." She muttered. Sansa scowled at her in the darkness. She could feel it.
"Oh stop spoiling it!" Sansa scoffed and then marched a few paces ahead with a huff. Arya rolled her eyes and reached down to scratch Nymeria behind the ear. The she-wolf groaned contentedly.
They arrived in the village shortly. It was dark except for the tavern, which glowed like a torch in the night. Thankfully, the moon was full and there was no thick canopy to block its light like there had been in the woods. Arya could see her sister's face much better. Sansa was smiling broadly. It was almost bizarre for Sansa hadn't smiled so widely once in the time they had been reunited, possibly since before…Arya shook her head. Sansa should be able to smile and it not be strange, she thought as she followed Sansa towards the tavern. They entered, leaving Nymeria outside.
No one looked up when they entered. Everyone was preoccupied. Soldiers, squires, and knights that Arya vaguely recognized a few of were deep in their cups and had whores and tavern wenches in their laps. They mingled with farmers and shop owners. Arya was sure she spotted a few of the Brotherhood amongst the crowd, but she wasn't sure.
It didn't matter anyways, since she and Sansa were dressed in blend in. Sansa wore an incredibly plain grey dress and a brown cloak, the hood pulled over to cover her shoulder length auburn locks. Arya wore a dark green dress with a brown trim and a black cloak. She didn't bother to wear her hood over her head. Her hair was an indistinctive shade of brown and didn't stand out in a crowd like Sansa's did. No one would pay her or Sansa any mind.
Sansa stalked towards the counter where a man was serving up drinks. Arya followed closely.
"Excuse me," Sansa said to the man. The man looked at her. "Yes?"
"We're looking for the fortuneteller." Sansa said quietly. "Do you have any idea of where we could find her?"
The man rolled his eyes and gruffly replied she was always nearby, especially on busy nights. He suggested they look outback where a stable was and pointed to a door that led there. Sansa nodded and went to the door. Arya followed, a hand on Needle at her hip just in case what awaited them in the stables was not a feeble old fortuneteller.
But a feeble old fortuneteller they did find. She sat in the hay, petting the head of a brown mare as the animal ate some oats out of her hand. She was grey-haired and small, wore a simple brown dress and leather boots, had a thick cloak wrapped around her with a trim of gray fur that matched her hair, and a many wrinkles. When she looked up at the sound of Sansa and Arya's footsteps, Arya saw she had wide, blue eyes full of youth that her body did not possess, and her smile was gentle like a mother's. Soft and gentle, sweet and kind, as if she were looking fondly at her own grandchildren arriving for a visit.
The old woman stood up with a bit of struggle and stooped into a curtsy.
"Your Grace." She said softly in an aged voice. Arya heard Sansa gasp lightly, and even she had to look at the old woman in surprise. How could she have known, Arya wondered suspiciously. The old woman stood slowly and smiled that motherly smile up at Sansa.
"How—" Sansa began, pulling down her hood to reveal her auburn hair.
"They sent me a sign. A red paw-print of a wolf in the snow. Who else but the Starks could it have meant?" The old woman said. She reached out and took Sansa's gloved hands in hers and gave them a few pats. "Now you and Princess Arya come and sit with me and Whisper here. You came for a reason, I presume."
Sansa numbly let the old woman lead her over to the pile of hay where she had been sitting not a minute ago petting the mare. She cast Arya a hesitant look over her shoulder, but Arya only smiled cruelly and shrugged. Sansa's eyes narrowed, un-amused, and with a huff she turned back around and sat in the hay. Arya shook her head and giggled quietly into her hand. It's her own fault she's so uncomfortable, Arya thought. She was the one who wanted to see the fortuneteller. Arya followed and sat next to her sister in the hay. The old woman sat as well, smiling kindly and returned to petting the horse Whisper's nose absently with one hand.
"I am Myrelda Sand of Rommanton, Your Grace." She introduced herself. "I come from a village in Dorne, though my forebears hail from Essos and arrived here not a generation before I was birthed. A bastard born of a newly arrived foreigner and the second son of a lowly Dornish House. My father had me put in a sept when I was young after my mother, his paramour, passed, but I left that life when I first started receiving messages from the gods that they wished me to share with others. I have since traveled all of Westeros, delivering the symbols to whoever desires or needs them." The old woman, Myrelda said. Arya eyed her warily. "Why did you tell us all that?" She asked. Myrelda simply continued to smile at her, not insulted at all seemingly. "I never had a fondness for mysteries. Mysterious characters never stay that way long with me anyways. And besides, I thought it fair that since I know all about you two girls, you should at least know a tidbit or two about little old me." Myrelda answered. Arya and Sansa exchanged sideways glances.
It was unavoidable. Everyone at this point knew the stories of the two Stark girls, twisted as some of the facts about them were. Everyone knew the tragic, inspirational tale of Sansa Stark, and many had heard of Arya's scores of perilous adventures. Arya didn't particularly like it. Sometimes the looks on people's faces when they were introduced to her and Sansa were quite funny. Other times, the looks and questions that followed could be irritating to no known end. Arya personally didn't like the questions she had been getting about the Faceless Men; nor did she take kindly to the rumor going around that she had no face and that she walked around with the front of her skull on display all the time. She wasn't sure how Sansa felt about a lot of the rumors surrounding her, but Arya was sure the one about her hair being dyed with the blood of her enemies wasn't one of her favorites.
"So the gods told you we were coming?" Sansa asked Myrelda. Myrelda nodded and reached up her sleeve. She held out her close palm to Sansa.
"They sent me a symbol for you." She said. Sansa looked at Myrelda's palm with wide blue eyes.
"What for?" Sansa whispered, her eyes never leaving Myrelda's palm. Myrelda's blue eyes softened and her smile broadened to where her teeth showed. One was missing, but that didn't make it any less of a pleasant smile.
"Your love, dear." Myrelda replied. "This will point you to whom you are meant to be with." Sansa looked up at Myrelda with surprise, and Arya did as well. Arya looked between the palm of Myrelda's hand and Myrelda herself thoughtfully. Then at her sister, who looked in awe at Myrelda and her closed hand. Arya hoped her sister's heart wasn't broken by whatever was in the old fortuneteller's palm.
"Show me, please." Sansa whispered, and Myrelda opened her palm.
In it sat a single gold coin.
"A gold dragon. The gods sent you that? They must have some deep pockets then." Arya said, looking at the shiny little thing suspiciously. What was the old woman trying to pull, she wondered.
Sansa stared at the gold coin for a long time though, her face a perfect mask until a small smile subtly made its way onto it. "It's not a gold dragon. Look closer." She said.
Arya did and what she saw was something peculiar. Sansa spoke true; it was not a gold dragon. It was a gold lion. A Lannister Lion. Arya felt her stomach sink and her blood turn colder than the Shivering Sea.
"This surely can't mean—"
"Princess," Myrelda cut her off with a stern look. Even that seemed motherly and it annoyed Arya to an extent. "Don't be so quick to interpret the symbols, especially one not meant for you." Myrelda said austerely. Arya scowled at the woman.
"What else could that coin mean?" She asked. She turned on her sister. "And why are you smiling? How could that coin mean anything but trouble?" Sansa looked up at her with surprise, as if she had been in a trance. But she quickly recovered and glowered at Arya.
She said nothing to her, though, and instead turned to Myrelda. "How did you come across this coin? Where did you find it? This coin hasn't been in issue since Aegon's conquest." Myrelda smiled pleasantly once again. "I was given a message from the gods some moons ago, when I was traveling through the Reach. They sent me north to the Westerlands. There I stumbled across the coin, alone and forgotten in the dirt of the road leading up those golden-laden mountains. The gods then told me it was a symbol meant for you, Your Grace." Sansa smiled broadly and, with an assuring nod from Myrelda when she hesitated, took the coin from her withered hand and looked at it adoringly, a light flush coming to her pale cheeks.
Arya was minorly horrified and gaped at her sister. This was unbelievable. This was ludicrous. This was…this was…Arya groaned. This was like a bloody song. The lovely little queen and princess go to a witch in the woods and get their fortunes told and the queen receives a sign from the gods about who her one true love will be that only she understands. Arya wondered if there was a word for how insipid the current situation was.
Myrelda smiled at her. "I have a sign for you as well, Princess Arya." She said.
Arya's eyes widened. "You must be joking." She said, certain that was the case. Myrelda nodded, however. Arya sighed. "What about then?" She asked. Myrelda smiled mischievously.
"Same as your sister, my dear." She said, reaching up her sleeve again. "Your love." Her closed fist emerged from the sleeve and Myrelda held it out to Arya. Sansa looked between the fist and Arya in pleasant surprise. She was smiling like a fool. She looked more a girl than a queen in that moment than she had in a long time to Arya. She should have felt a speck of gladness at that. Instead she felt goaded.
Arya scowled at the fist, feeling her cheeks heat up faintly. She prayed it didn't show.
"You jest." She said. Myrelda shook her head, smiling kindheartedly. "I do not, dear."
"You do." But she didn't. Arya knew when people lied. The Faceless Men had taught her well. Myrelda did not lie. "I do not, child." Myrelda said again, firmly. "Say it now, do you want to see this sign, or should I toss it into the rubbish for the maggots and rats?"
Arya uncertainly nodded. Beside her, she was sure she heard Sansa squeal, the sound smothered by her hands, which she held to her mouth in balled up fists. She was rapt at the scene before her.
Arya tried not to pay attention to her sister and instead focus on what Myrelda would reveal in her hand. Myrelda opened her fist.
Inside laid a single acorn.
Arya let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and she felt deflated. An acorn? Arya thought forlornly. Really? A stupid acorn? What could that possibly mean? When had acorns ever meant anything to her? Arya wracked her brain, but no thing and no one she knew was attached to the image of an acorn…except…Arya felt her face heat up even more, remembering a horrible dress that got ripped in a tussle. When she was little, it hadn't seemed like such a big deal, but now that she was older, Arya understood the implications of such things and…She shook herself.
"A stupid acorn," Arya said, the quaver in her voice hardly contained. "That's it?" Myrelda raised an eyebrow at her knowingly and smiled.
"It carries more meaning for you than for me, Milady." Myrelda replied easily. Her blue eyes flickered between the acorn and Arya.
"Would you like to keep it?" She asked. Arya scoffed.
"If I wanted an acorn I could pick one up anywhere."
"Yes, but would you like this one?" Myrelda asked. Arya looked at the acorn for a long moment before sighing and finally snatching the little acorn from the old woman's hand.
Myrelda smiled playfully. "Would you like to know where I got it?" She asked in a blatantly teasing manner. Arya scowled at Myrelda. "I can guess." She grumbled, stuffing the acorn into a pocket on the inside of her cloak. Sansa gave her a smirk and a sideways glance. She gently shoved her side; Sansa shoved her right back, giggling. Myrelda looked on, smiling fondly.
"Well, my business here is done it seems." Myrelda said, standing. She began climbing her horse. Arya and Sansa looked at her confusedly.
"Wait, we were your business?" Sansa asked. Atop Whisper, Myrelda nodded.
"I came here to deliver two signs from the gods to two fair maidens covered in blood. That was my mission and it is complete." Myrelda said, pulling up the hood of her cloak, casting her face in dark shadows that made the sweet woman menacing. She took hold of the reigns. "Goodbye, Your Grace, Princess," She said with a bow of her head.
"Wait." Arya called as Whisper began to trot out of the stables. Myrelda did not halt the mare, but looked back over her shoulder at her and Sansa. "Yes, My Lady?"
"Did the gods really send these signs?" Arya shouted, stepping forward to follow after the horse. Sansa followed after her. "If so, who are they? The old? The new? The Red god?" Myrelda laughed. "Child, even I am not sure what forces send me the messages I deliver. All I know is that I am meant to deliver them." She was smiling broadly down at the girls.
"But, wait—how do you know for sure if these are right—what if—what if—!"
Whisper began to pick up pace and Arya and Sansa could no longer keep up. They followed as fast as they could as Whisper rounded the tavern and took off down the road that cut through the village. Myrelda disappeared into the night, her elderly laugh echoing in the cold air. From above, snow began to fall gently.
"Ya know, for someone who hates mysteries, she's awfully mysterious." Sansa mumbled. Arya nodded in agreement.
On the trek back to Riverrun, Arya glanced over at her sister several times curiously. Sansa clutched that golden lion coin tightly in her hands and stared at it with a girlish smile. Arya was more curious now than irritated.
"Do you know who it is?" She finally asked. Sansa turned to her with wide eyes, but her gaze quickly softened and so did her smile. She nodded and looked at the coin tenderly.
"Who?" Arya asked. Sansa sighed and looked up from the coin. She finally put it away in her cloak.
"Arya," Sansa began. "Did you know there's a story to the coins on the House Payne sigil?"
A/N: This idea has been in my idea for days and I finally got around to writing it. Sorry for not posting any "Fawn" stories lately. I have one idea I'm fiddling with in my head about Sansa being Renly's "work wife" and how their family and friends perceive the relationship. Or maybe something finally about Arya and Gendry's first meeting. Shoot me more ideas if you'd like. Not just for "Fawn" fics, but other ASOIAF fics as well. I like doing requests.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one and check out my other stories as well, please.
Please review, and see ya later!