This is actually the prompt from day three, "It's a Sign", that in the order of things in this story, fitted better after yesterday's prompt, and since I'm not doing the prompt for day five, I thought it would be okay for me to post it today
Once again enjoy! And Happy Gendrya Week!
This was it. This was Arya's moment, this was what she could do. Arya could fight, she could fight without fire weapons, she could fight with weapons.
"Arya, if you don't want to do this…" Ashara started.
"You'll do what?! Fight in the conclave yourself, you would battle twelve warriors yourself, you would kill yourself."
"Then Elia would kill us for letting you do something stupid," Sansa said, "My sister can win. Arya can win." Arya smiled at that; when they had been young, it wasn't often that Sansa offered unwavering support.
"It needs to be me," she nodded.
A man came into the room after those words, and yelled for the room to be cleared, only two for each clan's champion.
"Only two can stay," she translated to her siblings, since the man had only spoken in Trigedasleng, a language that her siblings and the Daynes couldn't properly speak, even if Sansa and Ashara could understand a few words.
"I have to stay," Ashara apologized, "as an ambassador."
"Rickon and I will go," Sansa said immediately.
"I want to stay," Rickon argued.
"You go with Sansa. You don't need to be here," she said, kneeling to his height and pulling him for a hug, and sharing with him words of love.
"Be safe, Arya," Sansa said, coming forward to hug her sister, "Live. Please, Arya, I can't lose anyone else," she whispered, "I believe in you."
"The people you love normally win Conclaves, right?!" Arya whispered into her shoulder, before regretting it when she heard the deep intake of air Sansa took when thinking of Margaery. "Sorry…"
"Live, please, Arya."
"I will, Sansa," she promised, and Sansa left after giving her another kiss on the forehead.
"Robb, you should go with them. Jon will stay."
"You sure?" Jon asked.
"Yes. Robb, I'll see you soon," she said, "But if I'm not here when Bran comes back, tell him to be strong and smart, because he's going to need to save us all," she whispered, thinking of Bran who hadn't left Arkadia, staying back to make sure Jojen and Meera could count on him if they needed.
"You tell him. You, win," he pleaded, "May we meet again," he said giving her another kiss on the top of her head.
"He should stay," Jon argued as he looked at Robb leaving the room.
"If something bad happens, I don't want him to see me die. None of them," she said, "I don't want you to see me die either, but your mother is here. Worst case scenario I see my own mother and father tonight."
"Arya," she heard a voice behind them, and then found Gendry there. "I have to leave too."
"Be safe," she said, jumping to his arms.
"I will. I don't know what to wish for. Why should only one clan survive? When we have space for more than one…" he asked her, but she had no answer.
"Gendry…"
"Be safe, okay?"
"Okay. See you soon," she said with a smile, before he left. The room was now mostly empty, left with just the fighters and their people.
"Arya," another voice called.
"Brynden."
"You will fight well today, Arya," he said, "I know you will, I trained you," he said, letting his eyes focus on the markings on her face.
"You don't think she would mind, would she?" Arya asked, feeling his eyes on her face.
"No, she loved you like a sister. She would fight today if she was here," he spoke with grief for his second-in-command.
"She would have beaten me."
"She would, maybe you have a better chance today, because of that," he said. "It was to be hers, but today is yours," he said, offering her a sword.
"Brynden…"
"It's yours," he said, "May you have a good death."
"You won't die," Jon said as Brynden moved away.
"Ashara, I won't let them die. If I win, I won't let them die."
"I understand, Arya. When you win, I will stand next to you."
"Thank you," she said, hugging the older woman, who she still held so many conflicted feelings towards. The woman who loved Jon above anyone else; the leader of the guard on the Ark, the one who enforced the law; the woman who accepter Gendry, Jeyne and Willow in Arkadia first, without questions or side looks; the woman who floated her parents; the woman who fought for peace and unity…
Jon moved in front of her, holding onto her shoulder, like he had done a million times when she was mad and wanted to leave her family's quarters up in the sky.
"Be smart, Arya," he said, "You don't need to kill all twelve warriors, you need one kill, the last one. Hide, Arya, under the floor like always."
"I'll try, Jon, but I can't run from the fight."
"You just need to survive, like always, Arya."
"I will, Jon."
"Be safe, little Arya," he said, ruffing her hair like he had done a million times before, as goodbye when he left their rooms, as a reassurance when they had to hide. "May we meet again."
"May we meet again," she repeated the words. Her last ones, before she was called to take her place on the streets.
She traded looks with the other warriors, some she knew, some she didn't, but all would be capable fighters, trained in this since they were children. Then she looked at Lommy, carrying the same mark as her – a Triku sign on a Skaikru and Azgeda opponents – the mark of someone they had loved and lost.
Willow's mark on her forehead and the Skaikru flag flowing behind her, and then the sun disappearing under the horizon was the sign for the battle to start and to fight for a better future.