The volume of the room continued to rise until people were shouting to be heard over one another. Jon was arguing with his aunt, though Arya could not hear over the din or see his mouth to read his lips. The queen finally raised her hand for silence and the room slowly fell quiet. "Clear the room. If anyone has an urgent issue that cannot wait then they may make their way to the antechamber, though it may be several hours before we reconvene. Otherwise, open court will resume on the morrow. Thank you."
It took several long minutes and a lot of grumbling, but eventually Arya was left alone with Jon, the queen and her many guards. "Please, follow me." Arya followed the couple a dozen paces behind as they exited the throne room and arrived at a smaller meeting room. A long table was set in the center, with several smaller tables dotted around holding wine and glasses and a fire burned brightly to one side. The queen took a seat at the head of the table with Jon seating himself to her right. Arya hesitated but sat when gestured to the seat at the opposite end of the table. Still, she held herself stiffly and kept her chair pushed far enough away from the table to make an easy exit should it become necessary. The Queensguard and unsullied took alternating stances around the exterior of the room, with Grey Worm remaining directly beside the queen, hand casually resting on his sheathed weapon.
The queen studied her calming while Jon fought not to fidget at her side. "Tell me, Arya of House Start," She finally began, "how you went from evading capture in the Red Keep to training with the faceless men in Braavos? Though I admit I am not overly familiar with their order, I find it hard to believe that they would allow a child of ten and two to join their ranks."
"I did not arrive in Braavos when I was ten and two. I did not join the faceless until I was ten and four."
"Oh? The question stands. Explain to me how it is possible for you to be Arya."
The door opened before she could answer and several people entered the room, seating themselves silently around the table. Arya looked back to the queen, mouth closed.
"This is my small council. Mayhap you are familiar with some of them. All here have my utmost trust." Arya thought that was a rather foolish statement, or simply a lie. Kings and Queens do not tend last long without a healthy dose of mistrust. "This is Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen and Master of Coin; Asha Greyjoy, Master of Ships; Varys, Master of Whispers; Jon Umber, Master of Law, Jaime Lannister, head of the Queensguard and Samwell Tarly, our head Maester. Now, you were about to tell us a story?"
Arya took a deep breath, forcefully shedding her reluctance to revisit old, half-forgotten and buried memories. "I was with my dancing master the day my father was seized-"Jon looked ready to cut her off but she gestured sharply at him, earning an indignant look from the man. "Not the normal type of dancing. It was Braavosi Water Dancing. Syrio Forel was my master. Father said if I was going to have a sword then I may as well learn to use it." She paused, standing from her seat and moving quickly over to the nearest table and pouring herself a generous glass of wine. A smirk curled her lips when the guards tensed and took a half-step towards her. She sat again, sipping slowly at the bitter drink as she set the pitcher she had brought with her down on the table.
"Syrio was able to hold against the guards that were sent to capture me. He told me to run. When I arrived at the stables everyone was dead- all of fathers men. They were strewn across the floor in one big puddle of blood." She paused, thinking briefly of the boy she had killed that day but decided not to mention him. "I ran and hid in Flea Bottom until I heard they were executing father." The men at the table all flinched when she told them where she hid but she paid them no mind. Flea Bottom was hardly the worst place she's been. "I made my way to the square and climbed onto the statue of Balor. Father saw me when he was lead through the crowd." She took another long sip. "I tried to get to him but a man named Yoren grabbed me and turned me so I couldn't watch." She cleared her throat and the sound was rougher than she would have liked. "Yoren was a recruiter for the nights watch and was going to take me to the wall to my brother." She looked at Jon to see a pained look on his face before looking back at the queen. "He cut my hair and dressed me as a boy... But we were captured by goldcloaks and taken to Harrenhal before we could make it to the safety of the North."
She paused and let another smirk twist her lips, emptying her glass and then refilling it from the glass she had brought back to the table with her. "I met Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal. He made me his cupbearer." Her eyes flashed to Tyrion and then Jaime as they looked at her in disbelief. "To this day I don't know if he knew who I was. I think he may have- He definitely didn't believe the story I told him. It wasn't so bad, not until I heard that he was going to attack Robb."
"One of the men who had been with us on our way to the Wall was a faceless man. I saved him from burning during a skirmish- he had been locked in a wagon with two other men. He told me that I had taken three gifts from the God of Death that day and so I owed him three lives in return. He told me to give him any name and the person would know death. That is a lot of power to give to a little girl, though I hardly knew what to do with it at the time. I used my last death to force him to help us escape the city."
"We were later captured by the Brotherhood Without Borders, who were, ironically enough, the group that the guards had been searching for when they took us to Harrenhal in the first place." She cleared her throat again, taking another sip. "The Hound was brought in as a captive at one point and helpfully informed the brotherhood who I was. He eventually won trial by combat and was released. During my stay I learned how… unsavory, the brotherhood could be. I managed to escape from them but ended up captured by Hound when I ran into him again."
"He was going to take me to my mother and Robb, ransom me or some such thing. We arrived just in time to see the Red Wedding." She paused longer, remembering that horrific night, remembering the grotesque picture of Grey Wind's head sewn onto her brothers body. "I wanted to go inside to see if mother was still alive but he wouldn't let me. Instead he took me to the Vale to my aunt Lysa." She raised her eyebrow as her lips curled with morbid amusement. "We were told upon our arrival that she was dead. Death… does seem to be catching, does it not?" Her voice was tinged with mocking.
Another sip of wine and she refilled the glass again. "We left the Eyrie and ran into a woman called Breanne of Tarth and her squire." She looked over to meet Jaime's eyes. "She tried to tell me that she served my mother and that she wanted to take me to safety. She had a Lannister sword on her belt- a great thing with a golden lions head. She said she'd been given it by Jaime Lannister to help her fulfil her oath to my mother. The hound didn't trust her word and they ended up fighting. He was injured and fell down a hill but I hid myself away until she gave up and left. When I went down to him he asked me to give him a quick death…"
Jon finally butted in, despite the sharp look he received from the queen. "What kind of man would ask a child to take a life? Was he not capable of opening his own neck?" He demanded angrily.
Arya looked at him steadily. "He would not have been my first kill, or even my second or third." She let that hover in the room for a long moment but did not elaborate. Job looked ready to speak up again but the queen gestured at her to continue instead. He slouched back slightly into his chair and did not look away from the girl who had once been his sister. "All the same," she continued finally, "I refused. And then I walked away and left him to his death, whenever it should arrive."
"I eventually found myself at a port, one with a ship ready to make sail. When I left the company of the faceless man originally he gave me a coin. He told me it was of great value and should I ever have need of him again to give it to any man from Braavos and they would take me to him. I tried to use it to buy passage to the Wall," her eyes flicked to Jon's stony face quickly, "but he said it was only good for passage to Braavos. I got onboard and the rest was, as they say, history." She drained what was remaining of her glass, meeting the queens' eyes boldly.
"Is there anyone who would be able to confirm your story?" The Queen asked after a moment.
"Probably not anyone left alive, though I do not know that for sure. I do have this, however." She pulled the small sword free of its scabbard only to have half a dozen guards pull their own swords on her. She rolled her eyes at them, and handed the blade hilt first to the one closest to her. "If you'd be so kind as to hand that to your future king?" The guard hesitated but did so after a nod from the queen.
"This is Arya's sword." Jon stated confidently after looking it over.
The Queen nodded again, as if she had expected it. "So tell me Lady Arya, for a faceless man to be able to take the face of someone else- must the previous owner die?"
Arya hesitated, eyes darting once quickly around at the people sitting around her. All eyes were trained on her curiously, awaiting her answer. She couldn't' blame them, not much was known of her order outside their own walls and members. She wondered how the Queen knew to ask that question, or if it had a coincidence before she nodded just once, shifting back in her chair and crossing her left ankle casually over her right knee.
"Is it not then possible for someone to have acquired Arya's face at the same time that they acquired her sword?" She asked, turning to her nephew.
"And when should I have acquired the story?" Arya asked with a tilted head, drawing those purple eyes back to herself.
"Who's to say you're not simply gifted at spinning tales, with there being no one who can confirm or deny your story?"
Arya let out a gust of breath and iciness frosted the queen's expression. "Must we do this? Fine, Jon, ask me a question. Something only I would know." Her voice was cool and almost cruelly mocking as she made her demand, turning to stare at her brother.
Jon furrowed his brows, turning to lock eyes with his aunt, who nodded her acceptance after a pause. He looked down at the table, stretching his mind back trying to think of such a question. "Well you apparently already know who gifted the sword." He stated before pausing once again. Something only she would know was more difficult than one would imagine. Growing up in Winterfell meant they were always surrounded- by handmaids and Septas, cooks and guards, visiting nobles and stable boys- there were always people around. He finally grabbed onto one memory, one when Arya was only eight and the night was unseasonably cool, leaving a damp chill in the air. She had snuck out of her chambers in the dead of the night and somehow managed to make it to his own without anyone catching her.
She'd told him she couldn't sleep, he couldn't recall the reason beyond excitement over some visiting party meant to come in the following day, but she'd practically been bouncing on the edge of his bed. She'd pestered and poked at him until he sat up and given her his attention and then she demanded he tell her a story. He'd groaned at her at the time, even tried to get her to go wake Robb instead, but she was determined.
He'd finally caved and told her, in a quiet voice still raspy with sleep, the story of the Children of the Forest, how they had been greenseers and had carved the weirwood trees. He told her of how the first men had come to Westeros and of the war that followed. He'd told her how the two peoples eventually made piece only for war to break out again when the Andals arrived and immediately began burring all the weirwood groves. He told her how the Andals spent the next centuries conquering all of Westeros- all but the North. He told her how the surviving Children of the Forest had gone farther and farther north, only to later being blocked when the Wall was erected. In the darkest hour he whispered that they still lived there- with their huge weirwood groves and their greenseers, in the deepest reaches of the frost.
She'd hung on every word, eyes wide and huge. She'd settled and stilled by the time the First Men entered the story and didn't move until his voice had trailed off sometime later. She'd whispered to him then how she'd travel past the wall one day and find the Children of the Forest. It was going to be her life's great mission, and she'd meet wildlings and ride a direwolf and sleep under the greatest weirwood of all. He'd smiled at her then and quietly vowed to go with her. She'd gone to bed not long after but it was a memory he'd thought of often- the first time he'd gone past the wall, the first time he ran into a wildling, when he was his happiest with Ygritte and could just imagine how much Arya would like her… It was one of his favorite memories of her- happy, carefree and adventurous in her youth.
Jon cleared his throat, pouring his own glass of wine and taking a sip to rid himself of the scratchiness he could feel creeping up his throat. He glanced at his aunt once more and then turned to look at the girl who could be his sister. "A couple of years before you left for Kings Landing, you came to my chambers in the middle of the night, woke me up and made a true pest of yourself," His voice started out thick and rough but smoothed the longer he talked, "You refused to let me go back to sleep until I told you a story. I must have talked for an hour but you were so enthralled I didn't want to cut it off. When the story was finished you told me that you were going to do something- that you'd devote your life to making it happen. I told you I'd go with you and that we'd do it together. What was it?"
Arya stared hard at him. She kept her face blank but she could feel herself trying to frown. Her foot twitched and she curled her toes to prevent it happening again. Was this a test? She strained her mind trying to remember the single instance he was talking about but she could only recall small flashes of time spent in his chambers. He'd tell her stories as often as she would demand them, which had happened frequently. He'd always been her favorite person and she'd spent as much time with him as she'd been allowed when they were children. He'd never complained- was the only one to not complain about her presence, she remembered.
She allowed her eyes to drop as she tried harder and harder but the memory wouldn't come. Grey jumped back to grey as Jon shifted back into his chair, seeming to slump under the weight of a dragon while somehow still keeping his spine straight. "I don't… She trailed off, curling her hands together. Out of sight of everyone she harshly pinched the tip of her right pinky, over the upper part of her nail. The sharp flair of pain focused her mind. "I don't remember that. Perhaps a different question?" She requested calmly, though her heart was beating harshly against her breast.
Jon shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "No, we're done here for now." His voice was harsh and deep and he pushed himself up out of his chair and strode quickly from the room. The queen stayed sitting, dainty hands crossed on the table in front of her. "Sir Jaime, you and your men escort the Lady Arya to a chamber fitting to her.. Status. I want two men guarding her door at all time and another two stationed at each end of the hallway. Pair one of your gold cloaks with one of the unsullied for each team. And make sure her window doesn't open." She rose gracefully to her feet and followed her nephew's path out the door.
Arya remained frozen in her seat for another long moment, heart pounding harder than ever and mind racing. What did this mean? Obviously she was a prisoner, but would she be given a second chance to prove herself? She WAS Arya Stark, proving that had never been one of the issues she'd taken into serious consideration. It suddenly washed over her how her physical looks changing would be the least of her problems. She'd been a child when she'd left Winterfell, had been a child the last time she'd seen her mother or Jon or Robb or the boys. A slightly older child the last time she'd seen her sister and her father.
She tried to bring her mother's face to mind but could only draw the image of red hair and blue eyes. Bran and Rickon were blurs of baby softness, brown hair and energy. Did she even remember who Arya Stark was? She'd seen the hurt in Jon's eyes- that memory had been important to him. How could she not remember something so important?
She was pulled out of her spiraling thoughts by a throat clearing above her. "Let's go, Lady Arya." Jaime Lannister said, voice just a little too soft. She immediately straightened, shocked by the hint of pity from the man she'd spent years cursing. She drew her shoulders back and allowed her leg to slide smoothly down to the floor. She stood in one graceful motion, the guards instinctively taking a step back and gripping tighter to their weapons not even giving her the flare of amusement it normally would. She kept her face perfectly still, locking down on her turmoil with a ruthless effectiveness that only came from years of practice. She linked her hands daintily across her stomach, truly moving with the grace of a noble as she left the room, enclosed as she was on all sides by leather and steel.
She paid no heed to the staring masses they passed on their journey, to a tower entrance and then up and up until they finally came out at the top of a tower. The stairway gave to an open space with a single door. The front two guards took stance on either side of the door while a third pulled the heavy wood open. Jaime led her into a large open room, with a simple bed, writing table and wardrobe. Four large windows looked out in any direction. She moved further into the room, turning to look at her jailor. He nodded his head at the window across from him. "I know the Queen specified your chambers being in a hall, but I think this will suit you just fine. Even if you somehow manage to break through the glass without alerting your guard, you will not survive the drop. This tower was made specifically to be unscaleable. I suggest you rest and prepare, your journey must have been long."
He bowed slightly to her and took a step backwards and out the door instead of turning his back to her. Despite herself, the corner of her lip curled in appreciative amusement. Smart man. She turned in a 360 degree circle before sighing quietly. She really needed to start better preparing for all eventualities, though in her defense, she was usually pretty good at guessing how an event would play out. She wasn't enjoying the start of this mission and she really wasn't enjoying the rush of emotions the whole thing was stirring up in her. She'd thought she was better than that.