Jon disappeared for a moment and then appeared below, striding across the courtyard towards her. The others remained above, ever watchful. She imagined they were rather enjoying the show, as she took in her brothers determined stride and expression that was caught somewhere between concerned, angry and confused.
Knowing there was no easy way to wiggle out of the oncoming conversation, she decided to embrace it and moved to sheath both weapons, reaching up once her hands were free to swipe her forearm across her sweaty forehead. The wound tugged slightly with the motion, but she ignored the renewed trickle of blood as she met the King with her chin raised and features calm. "Good morrow, brother." She offered pleasantly as he came to a stop before her.
"Arya-" He seemed almost at a loss of words, like he wasn't sure how to handle this version of her. They'd only spoken for a few minutes the night before, and in front of a sizeable audience, so it wasn't as if they'd really had a chance to catch up or come to know each other once more. "How did you learn to fight like that? Who was that man?" He finally settled on.
She raised a brow slightly at him, for he'd been the one to give her Needle all those years ago. Had he not expected her to learn how to wield it? "I began learning to fight back in Kings Landing, under the tutelage of one of the greatest Dancing Master the world had ever seen, the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel."
"Is that who you were fighting with?" He questioned, brows furrowed.
"No." She replied, voice a little cooler. "Syrio died the day they took father prisoner. He's the reason I was able to evade capture myself."
His frown deepened. "I am sorry to hear that. You sound like you were fond of him. I'd still like to know who you were just with. That man injured you, he could have killed you- it looked like he was trying to!"
"He wasn't." She stated blandly. "And he's not anyone you'd like to know. Trust me. Now, am I welcome at this ridiculously early morning council meeting, or shall I excuse myself?" It was ridiculously early, the sun not yet even peaking over the horizon, the air still grey and silent. Another reason she hadn't been expecting an interruption.
Her brother was stubborn however, and he refused to be cowed so easily on the subject, and continued to press. "Arya-"
"Jon." She cut him off sternly, frowning at him in turn. "I mean you no offense, brother, truly, but this is none of your business. I'm no longer a little girl, and I am not required to answer to you as to how I spend my nights." She stated boldly, almost daring him to argue. "Or whom I spend them with."
His mouth dropped the slightest bit open as he nearly gaped at her in shock. Ah, the prudity of the Westerosi. "Arya! That's not, - are you-? Gods-" He cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. She heard more than one of the eavesdroppers above gasp at her near scandalous audacity, the loudest of which she recognized as Sansas. He sighed quietly, steeling himself, and then looked back down at her. "You're only ten and six-"
Her face betrayed her brief flash of incredulity and she couldn't help but let out a brief laugh. "You seem to have forgotten, brother, that I've been on my own since I was ten and one. Please, do not patronize me. I haven't been a child in some time, and I have long outgrown needing a Septa nagging after me."
His face contorted slightly, and for a moment she thought he might try and dig in his heals further. She shot him her coolest look, refusing to give into the urge to cross her arms, refusing to look defensive in any way. Luckily, he seemed to finally remember that they had an audience because he allowed his shoulders to drop the slightest bit before forcing them to straight once again, forever under the weight of his title and the eyes resting upon him. "This is hardly the time or place for this." He acknowledged tightly. "Please, join us in the war room. We can finish our conversation later."
"There is no conversation to finish." She pressed quietly, not wanting to go through the same song and dance at a later time, when there was absolutely no way she'd give away Jaqen's identity. It was foolish of them to be so careless. Herself, well, she'd made mistakes before, but she was a bit surprised that Jaqen had been caught unawares. It was unlike him, and she wasn't quite sure what to think about it. Did he want to be seen? Why would that be? Why was he here? The questions flared anew, and she had to stop herself from frowning.
She raised a brow at him once more and then, trying to seem less standoffish- for that truly wasn't the relationship she wanted to reform with the long lost brother, she offered him her arm- that is, the arm free of the tacky, half dried streaks of blood. He only hesitated for a moment, frowning slightly at her once more, before he accepted her light hold and escorted her back up the steps to rejoin the group above. She should get bonus points for the lady-like gesture, she thought to herself. Still, it seemed to help smooth the lines on her brothers brow, so she didn't mind it too much.
She ignored the range of looks she was getting once they reached the waiting small council and she let go of him so that he could join the waiting Queen as protocol dictated. Not really wanted to walk near Sansa at that moment either, for the almost certain continuation of the very conversation she wanted to avoid, she instead fell to the back of the group, ending up next to none other than Jaime Lannister and a middle aged man who looked the type to enjoy drinking, fighting and fucking, with a casually dangerous edge that made her think he might be a sellsword or cutthroat.
"Quite the set of balls, you've got." The man stated crudely. The golden haired Lannister let out a muffled, long suffering, sigh through his nose and shot the man a look as a few other in close proximity stiffened ahead of them.
Her lips curled at his blunt, uncaring demeanor. She had a feeling she could come to enjoy this mans company, if they ended up spending more time around each other. She eyed him discreetly. "And you are?" She asked.
"Sir Bronn of the Blackwater!" He announced half-jokingly.
She eyed him again, more obviously. "Really?" She asked, sounding doubtful.
He took on an exaggeratedly offended look, holding his hand over his heart. "You don't believe me a knight?" He asked in a wounded voice, though his eyes crinkled.
"Well," She began slowly, still studying him. "I suppose I'm just surprised that you didn't set off the inherent disdain I usually feel upon meeting most Southern Knights."
This time it was she that received a dirty look from the Lannister son, though he was more discreet than when he'd been aiming it at Sir Bronn of the Blackwater. The man in question tilted his head back and let out a bright laugh at the same time, reaching over to slap her roughly on the back. She saw the motion coming, so she prevented herself from reacting negatively to the distasteful gesture, paranoid mind always aware of the possibility of a weapon coming towards her unprotected back- more so when she was amongst a crowd. She'd never been one for casual touching, and her training had hardened her enough that she would rather avoid it altogether in most situations. It was unnecessary, and could slow awareness and reaction times if one became careless.
Beyond that, the impressive gathering of bruises she'd acquired under her clothes protested loudly when the digit connected now that she'd stopped moving and her adrenaline was receding. She'd apparently grown softer in the months since she'd departed, because she was no longer used to the bone deep ache of fresh welts as they melded into colorful bruises. Perhaps after the council she'd take advantage of the wonderful hot springs flowing beneath the keep. She wondered if Jaqen would judge her for the indulgence. Then she wondered if he'd be willing to join her. The steamy heat might almost feel like they were still across the Narrow Sea, when things were much less complicated and she herself was content with spending her own free time fighting and fucking in between assignments and training.
After going so long without such a challenging fight, she felt the deep stirring in her core that she often got after such things, and a small, hidden part of herself was disappointed that she hadn't gotten that release as well before having to rejoin the rest of the world. The night had passed far too quickly, and she was a little sad to see it end. Still, knowing that the man had been enjoying their play just as much as she made her fairly confident that he'd be just as eager to join their flesh as she once they were free to. If she could make that happen sooner than later? Well, who could blame her?
Arya was drawn out of her thoughts as the conversation beside her continued on, even as they entered the war room and took their seats in roughly the same position that they had entered it. She found her self seated between the two men, with Sansa across and one right of her, and Jon at the head of the table, apart from them both, though slightly closer to Sansa.
There were bowls of fruits and breads, and flagons of both water and wine, set around the room. Suddenly feeling famished, Arya reached out to snag an apple from nearby and slipped her small finger knife free of its hidden sheath. She settled into her seat seemingly comfortably, ignoring the points of discomfort lighting her body with practiced stoicism as she began carving bite sized pieces from her breakfast and popping them into her mouth from the edge of the razor sharp blade.
Jon and Daenerys stood together at the head of the table once everyone was settled. Jon began the meeting by thanking everyone for agreeing to meet so early. He may have just returned the night before, but he was eager for everyone to be caught up so that they could move on to planning their next step against the ever approaching army of the undead.
The recap of events was the easy part. It was once they were brainstorming their next move that things started to stall. It seemed there were a couple of ideas floating around, and people spent more time arguing over their pros and cons that nothing was actually being decided nor progress made. From her time as a cupbearer, she knew this type of thing was normal during a war council, but it was still frustrating to the girl to watch the council squabble when they should have been solidifying their plans. They'd been there nearing two hours already, and she was growing bored.
"Do you know why Aegon Targaryen is still remembered, three hundred years after his death?" Arya spoke up suddenly, the mesh of voices trailing off as all turned to look at her still casually lounging form.
Purple eyes narrowed at her, studying her and trying to figure her out. They hadn't spoken before this, and it was clear the Queen wasn't sure quite what to make of her. "Because he had dragons." She answered sharply after a pause, tone confident and chin raised slightly.
"A lot of people have had dragons." Arya denied easily, brow raised slightly. "Can you name every one of them?" Purple eyes narrowed further, and she heard her sister hiss out her name almost silently from the seat across from her. She ignored the warning. "No? So, not just the dragons then."
"What is the point of this, Arya?" Jon asked, breaking his own silence and shooting her a stern look.
Her brow twitched again, and she had to lock down on the mocking expression that wanted to spread across her face at the protectiveness he was unwittingly showing. He might have caught it anyway. He'd always been the best at reading her in their youth. Her eyes dropped back to the table in mock contrition as she clarified. "Aegon the Conqueror isn't remembered because of what he had. He's remembered for what he did."
"He did a great number of things. Of which are you referring?" Daenerys questioned coolly. Arya couldn't help but meet her eyes once again, feeling her amusement grow at how easily Her Grace was to rile. She had a feeling the woman wasn't often questioned, at least not openly, and certainly never so boldly.
Still, probably best to get on with it. Her eyes grew distant as she recalled a conversation with a man now long dead- a man who taught her many lessons of his own, during their brief time together. "When Aegon the Conqueror took the battle to the fortress of Harren the Black, it was a feat many considered foolish. Harrenhal was said to be impenetrable, after all. The entirety of the riverlands had been depleted of their resources, and thousands died to complete its construction. It was the biggest castle in Westeros, with the thickest, strongest, and tallest ramparts in all the land. A million men could have laid siege to it's walls, and a million would have been repelled. The traditional plays wouldn't work, not there, and so Aegon didn't bother with them. He found another way. He changed the rules of the game. That is why he's remembered. Not because he was another faceless Targaryen boasting a pet dragon."
She settled farther into her chair when she finished, secretly enjoying the broad range of expressions she was getting from around the table. She though her little speech might have further enraged the queen, but it didn't seem to be the case as the silver haired woman instead studied here thoughtfully once more, head tilted just slightly to the side.
Her attention was caught next by the golden haired brothers exchanging a look of their own, the shorter of the two several seats away. She allowed her lips to twist in amusement. "Tywin taught me that." She offered then, tone blasé. Both sets of eyes snapped to her immediately and she met them each in turn, studying them and allowing them both to study her in return.
"Tywin Lannister?" Sansa asked incredulously. Grey eyes moved to meet Tully blue.
"Do you know another?" Arya returned sardonically.
"When would Tywin Lannister have taught you anything?" She pressed further, sounding almost faint at the very idea. "You never met the man."
"At Harrenhal." She stated, as though it should have been obvious from the story she told.
"At Harrenhal? -Arya, I don't understand, when were you at Harrenhal?"
Becoming slightly uncomfortable at the real distress that was beginning to crack through the redhead's own carefully crafted mask, the younger of the two deflected. "We're getting off topic. The point is, Aegon knew he couldn't take the fortress by charging the gates, like the entire world expected him to do, so he made another way. You've already met this army head on, and we all know how well that went. It's time find another way. We need to change the game."
"You think it's that easy?" One of the Northern lords asked condescendingly. "Go on then girl, pray share with us this brilliant new strategy."
Arya didn't spare him but the briefest of looks- only long enough to take in his features before she glanced back to the people whose voices held the power. "Well?" Jon nudged after a moment. "Do you have any ideas?"
She shrugged slightly, having spent quite a bit of time thinking about it in her boredom. "It seems fairly obvious, doesn't it? You know what won't work, eliminate those strategies and then figure out what's left."
"Go on." Jon pressed, sounding more intrigued and rightly suspecting she wouldn't press this unless she had an idea of her own to back it up.
She shrugged again, a bit deeper. "Well, judging by past experience, if you attack with your dragons, you have to expect that they'll be taken down eventually." She stated bluntly, refusing to be bowed by the fire that lit those violet orbs at her disinterested tone of voice. "You might be able to take them out first, but it doesn't seem likely. Send our armies to meet them head on, and we might as well just add our men to their numbers before we'd even make a dent in their forces. Combining both might grant better odds, but I still wouldn't place a wager in our favor."
"Then what do you suggest?" The queen asked, tone nearing frigid.
"You said the White Walkers stay at the back and oversee the army marching before them, yes? So attack from behind, take out the White Walkers and their soldiers will follow."
The silence stretched for several seconds as everyone thought over the obvious sounding statement that was anything but as simple as it sounded. It was the youngest member, the Lady of Bear Island, that spoke up next. "The coming army is expansive. How would you suggest we get out soldiers behind them? It would take months to go around, and by that time they'd be on top of the city."
Arya looked then to Lord Umber, familiar to her from her childhood. She knew, much like beneath Winterfell, The Last Hearth also had extensive hot springs spreading under and around the keep. "Tell me, Lord Umber," She began, gaining his undivided attention, a curious tilt to the large mans head. "When I was a girl, I heard that the hot springs beneath The Last Hearth are even more expansive than those of Winterfell. That they run for miles through a system of underground caves and caverns that a stranger would easily become lost in. Is that true?"
His brows raised at the question, but he answered immediately all the same. "It is, My Lady."
"Thank you. So, if we're pitching ideas, I would suggest taking a host North to The Last Hearth and have them take refuge underground until the army passes above, and then attack from behind. Should it fail, the majority of the army will still be South of them and we won't really have lost much." She finished like it was obvious.
Considering looks were exchanged around the room, and the silence stretched as everyone gave the idea real thought. It did sound like a promising idea, and one that would have fewer causalities with a greater chance of success than any of the others they'd been arguing over.
Mayhap it was time to change the rules after all…
~*~ TBC ~*~
Notes:
I lied, this story will actually have three parts. Coming next- Arya and Jaqen visit the hotsprings & we finally discover just what brought the Faceless Man back to Westeros during a face to face meeting with the King of the North and Dragon Queen.
Please let me know what you think! Your comments and Kudos keep me motivated to write faster!
