A Young Wolf - 2
Most of the dialog is from the show, simply because these scenes couldn't go any other way, and one from the books.
Wood clattered on the stone floor and she felt a sharp sting on her palm from the swing that had hit the practice sword from her hands. It all buzzed in the back of her head as she remembered how Jory had been killed days ago.
Had his sword been taken from his hand as well? Metal ringing on metal filled her ears from all the times she had watched her older brothers fight in the courtyard. Had he still had his sword? She would like to think so, that he had stood a chance against the person that had killed him, reportedly the Kingslayer himself. It had probably been a dirty underhanded trick. Jory had been a man of honor like everyone in her father's service, he would have fought honorably just like those in the North. A thing she had yet to see here in the South.
Her own father was using a crutch even now from those same tactics devised by the Lannisters. A spear through the leg, metal piercing skin, the shaft of wood sinking in to the flesh. It made the own back of her leg prickle at the thought.
"Dead girl," Syrio Forel tapped at her shoulder with his wood sword, "if you do not pay attention you will die." The sword lifted as Arya moved to go and get her own sword, still wondering if her father really had enough guards here at King's Landing. She stood up with her fingers now curled around the hilt and turned to her Dancing Master. "Keep your eyes on me and look dead girl. If you do not see me you will not see death coming for you."
She frowned but raised her gaze to meet his, "I always see death coming for me," she tightened her grip on the sword.
"Death comes for us all child," his sword raised and she turned with her side facing him. Smaller target, the words whispered through her mind right before he lunged forward and she brought her sword across her body to block.
The clash of wood echoed through the room for awhile, until the opening of a heavy metal door cut through what had started to sound like a melody to her ears. "Arya Stark," Ser Trant walked into the room, metal arm clinking as he moved, "come with us, your father wants to see you." The Knight of the Kingsguard stopped just a full grown man's length away, if that man was lying on the floor.
The fact that her father wanted to see her it what made her step forward, forgetting the session of sword play in that moment. Was he all right? What if someone had stuck another spear through him? Or was it simply time to leave? Had the servants finished packing their clothes into the carriage?
A arm moved to block her path and she glanced up at Syrio, backing up a few steps as he spoke to the Ser Trant as more soliders filed into the room, "And why is it, that Lord Eddard, is sending Lannister men in place of his own? I'm wondering."
"Mind your place Dancing Master," Ser Trant spat at the Braavosi, "This is no concern of yours."
But it was hers, "My father wouldn't send you," Arya said, knowing the words were true as she spoke them. They were Lannisters, if Jory was still alive her father would have sent him in his stead. With the captain dead his replacement would have come instead as long as his services weren't needed elsewhere. She raised the sword still in her hand, "And I don't have to go with you if I don't want."
Her words were met with laughter from the Kingsguard, "Take her."
One of the Lannister men stepped forward when he issued the order, "Are you men or snakes that you would threaten a child?" Syrio questioned as the man continued to step forward.
"Get out of my way little man."
"I am Syrio Forel." Pride laced every word.
"Foreign bastard."
The soldier unsheathed his sword only to be knocked to the ground before he could even begin to use it.
"And you will be speaking to me with more respect." Syrio asserted, turning now to face the other soldiers that had begun to slowly advance, unhinged by how easily their fellow warrior had fallen.
"Kill the Braavosi. Bring the girl." Ser Trant ordered.
"Arya," her gaze moved to Syrio, "child, we are done with dancing for the day. Run to your father."
Chaos ensued after those words, blurs of red and gold as the soldiers moved forward and Syrio practically danced around them, sword striking at any weaknesses in their armor. The room didn't have time to fall silent when the last one was on his back like the others.
A snort came from Ser Trant, "Bloody oafs," his sword was drawn and Arya took a step back.
"Come with me, run." she said, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the Kingsguard drew near to Syrio.
"The First Sword of Braavos does not run," Wood and steal swords met and Arya could only stand frozen as they striked and blocked until steal sliced through wood, a large chunk of the practice sword falling to the floor. "What do we say? To the God of Death?"
The answer was instantly on her lips, "Not today."
"Go."
Arya turned and ran down a narrow staircase into the Keep. Her feet hitting the stone steps was the only sound as she moved swiftly through the halls, always heading down, not daring to make a sound. Not today, kept repeating in her head as she stopped momentarily at a landing. Two paths stretched infront of her, one leading up and towards shouting. The other to darkness and quiet. Arya chose dark passage, running down steps until she was on the ground floor and made her way to the stables.
She slowed when she saw what greeted her; dead bodies of servants and her father's men lying on the ground, the contents from the carriage still on the ground. They hadn't stood a chance. Her eyes fell on one of the open chests, it was hers, dark clothes spilling across the ground like blood. Just like the bodies. She came to a halt momentarily, still staring at the open chest. Hers. "Needle."
She threw the wood sword to the ground, crouching down to sift through the articles of clothing, "There she is."
Arya glanced up when a boy walked out from the stables. "What do you want?" she asked, but turned back to the chest, needing to find the sheath that held her sword.
"Want you wolf girl, come here."
Feeling a sense of frustration she turned to look back over her shoulder, "Leave me be. My father's a Lord he'll reward you."
She was already facing the chest once more, hands getting more frantic in their search. "She'll reward me." A hand grabbed her just as she settled her fingers over familiar steel. "The Queen."
Arya pulled the sword from it's sheath as she stood up, turning to face the boy, "Stay away!" she shouted, feeling Needle slip through the boy like butter.
His eyes widened, a slight groan coming from him as he looked down and she followed his gaze to the thin sword sticking out of him. His hand was wrapped around the blade, as if that would dull his pain. "Take it out," he said, gaze rising and she met it, staring for a second as blood turned his tunic red.
With a gasp Arya pulled back and away, watching as the sword slid from his body that fell to the ground. Her heart was hammering away in her chest. The boy was dead.
The realization hit her hard and fast, then she heard the distant sounds of shouting and clashing of metal. Her father's men were still fighting, but there was no telling what had happened to her father. She turned from the stables and ran from the courtyard of the Red Keep, into the dungeon, and out into the surrounding city of King's Landing. Arya had gotten herself lost in the maze of streets and passages before, it wouldn't be too difficult to do it again.