"The Honored Guest" Chapter 10 The Council of War

Chapter Ten The Council of War

Connington watched his colleagues and their subordinates gather for the meeting. He was particularly pleased with the way his scheme was progressing, and was in a good mood. The last to arrive and sit at the main table were Aegon, Arya, and Lady Nymeria.

Something caught his eye, and his attention turned to Arya. She looked different – her boots were not muddy and even seemed buffed, her clothes were very clean, her braid was tight and had no twigs in it, and her face looked to have been scrubbed. In fact, her face even had some color to it. Puzzled, Connington looked at Lady Nym and saw the similarity – both had just a touch of red on their lips, kohl on their eyes, and blush on their cheeks. Lady Nym was always beautiful, with or without paint, but Arya now looked a bit older, and it was obvious her features were very pretty. Strangest of all, Arya did not seem to be at all upset that women had been fussed over her grooming.

Lord Connington whispered to the Sand Snake, "What is going on with the girl?"

Nym grinned, "Ashara told Arya that there was no way she was going to attend the war council looking like a dirty child, and that Lord Jon's reputation depended on her having a neat and tidy appearance. I told her that a woman warrior makes herself attractive as a ruse to mislead opponents."

Lord Jon replied, "You are very clever to have achieved something even her mother despaired of, and I commend you for helping to make Arya presentable. I suppose that it will still be impossible to get her out of boy's clothes and laden with weapons?"

Lady Nym smiled, "She fancies herself to be a fierce fighter, and I wouldn't interfere with that self-image. However, I hope to change her breeches into feminine silks."

Ser Tristan Rivers, an exile sellsword, complained in a loud voice, "What's this? Are we to have women and children at this council? Is this to be a festival?"

Jon was patient, "You know that the lady is Nymeria Sand, the representative our Dornish allies, and of course Prince Aegon should be present, and the child, many of you know as my clever ward, Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell. Lady Stark is here for educational purposes. Someday she will become a learned wife for some fortunate lord."

Arya shot him a murderous look.

"I fear for that 'fortunate lord', Connington." Gorys Edoryen, the Golden Company paymaster said, "The other day I told her that she would look pretty in a dress, and she snarled, 'Piss off!' and her wolf showed me her fangs! I thought I was going to lose my arm!"

The laughter around the table was becoming infectious, but an angry Summer Islander yelled, "A useless little girl should not be at war council! She is not even old enough to fuck!"

Arya, contrary as usual, shouted at the sellsword defiantly, "I'm not useless, and I'll be old enough to fuck in two years!" The Council burst into laughter again, highly amused.

Jon interjected, "Arya, enough, I fear that Septa Lemore must another little talk with you." He turned back to the sellsword, "Actually, the little girl is not as useless as you think. Lady Arya, do you know this man?"

Arya was still looking defiant, "Yes, he is Black Balaq, commander of the Golden Company archers. He is the best bowman in camp, but has terrible luck at dice, and owes Ser Franklin Flowers 500 gold dragons. He favors the camp follower, Yalla, but is still scratching the rash she gave him. He has a birthmark in the shape of a lizard-lion on his -"

"Enough!" roared Balaq, over the increasing hoots and jeers of his comrades, one shouting, "You tell'em, wolf girl!" "You made your point, Griff," he growled, using Lord Jon's sellsword nickname, "I won't question the child's value anymore."

"Smart move," replied Jon, "She listens and observes, and analyzes, too. Lysono says that she would have a great future if she wanted to be a spy. Arya, stand up and recount the conversation that we had a few weeks ago."

Arya stood and reported, "I told you that you should take Harrenhal as your base camp. It is easier to protect a castle than scattered tents in the forest. Our advantage is that it is poorly guarded and the soldiers are superstitious and uneasy because Harrenhal is believed to be haunted."

Connington took up the discussion, "I realized that the girl had given me the makings of a good plan. Taking Harrenhal would send a statement to King's Landing that we are present and ready to confront their forces. If we capture the castle easily, Robert and Tywin may become nervous and doubt their strength.

He paused and nodded to one advisor at the table, "To that effect, I assigned Lysono Maar, Golden Company's spymaster, to see if he could infiltrate the castle, and determine the weaknesses, if any."

Lysono stood up and continued, "Harrenhal needs a constant supply of smallfolk for laborers, so it was easy to plant spies among the workers. My agents confirmed that the permanent inhabitants are on edge and ready to abandon the castle. To encourage their desire to flee, the spies fill the towers with eerie wails and screeches late at night, and melt away before they are discovered. The inhabitants are convinced that the castle houses an army of ghosts, and every soldier has bags under his eyes from lack of sleep."

Connington resumed talking, "The Commander is Ser Amory Lorch, a Lannister bannerman, a steadfast and determined fighter, but known more for his cruelty than his brains. Our plan is send a small troop of infiltrators through the postern gate in the middle of the night."

Lysono took up the narrative again, "The invaders will actually be a troupe of mummers, disguised as fiends, specters, and ghouls. They will attack the soldiers abed in their barracks and drive them out of the main gates, which will have been conveniently opened for them previously by my agents. The agents will also be responsible for opening the postern gate on our signal, and for collecting as many weapons as possible from the barracks so most of the fleeing soldiers will be unarmed."

Connington continued, "Golden Company and Targaryen bannermen will be waiting outside the main gate to take prisoners. If anyone resists, they will receive a knock on the head. We will also be prepared for a sortie by Ser Amory and his knights – I don't expect them to surrender quietly. This plan will be implemented tomorrow night. Any questions?"

The battle plan was met with general approval, and details were hashed out before Connington adjourned the meeting so final preparations could be completed.

Arya had been privy to the plan and the spymaster's operations previously, and was almost bored as she listened to it being explained. She decided to test one of Lady Nym's lessons. As the Sand Snake painted her face prior to the meeting, she told Arya that a warrior woman's appearance was one of her powers. "All an attractive woman has to do is smile and start a conversation, and most men will let down their guard."

She observed a young squire standing across the room, a boy having only two more namedays than her. Arya had noticed that the squire always seemed to be loitering around the practice yard when she was water dancing, trying not to appear that he was watching her. She caught his eye and flashed him a broad smile, and then winked. The boy was so startled that his mouth flew open, and he dropped his flagon of cider with a loud clang. A few sellswords turned to look at him, and he blushed in embarrassment. Lady Nym was right, she thought, I do have power! She snickered to herself, I should try this on Aegon, but that would be cruel. I wager he would be wroth with me.

Bedtime at Ashara's pavilion was becoming routine, and although Nymeria the direwolf was becoming more and more reluctant to leave Aegon in the evening, eventually she would follow Arya home, yawn loudly, and curl up at the foot of Arya's bed. Arya noticed that Lady Nym changed into a beautiful linen nightgown, and that she was wrinkling her nose at Arya's coarse woolen undershirt and smallclothes.

Nym said, "That simply will not do. I will have my handmaiden alter one of my negligées into a proper nightie for you. A warrior woman must be stylish even at night, Arya, sometimes especially at night," she added with a wink.

But what really intrigued Arya, was how Nym disarmed herself before going to bed. When she stepped out of her silks, she had garters on her thighs and upper arms, and a special sheath between her breasts. They held knives that were hidden when she was clothed. Nym saw the girl staring and told her, "Arya, the greatsword I carry is not my main weapon, although I practice often with it to build my arm strength. My primary skill involves these hidden knives. I have learned to throw them and use them in hand to hand combat accurately and quickly. The surprise factor is very important. I see that you wear a throwing blade on your belt. Would you like me to help you improve your knife skills, also?"

Arya nodded vigorously. She was beginning to appreciate Lady Nym more and more.

When they were snuggled in bed, another habit that she was beginning to enjoy, Arya told her in a hushed voice how she had discomfited the squire. Lady Nym laughed, "You are learning quickly. You are going to be quite dangerous before long, with a long list of conquests by the time you flower. Now it is my turn. When I am home in Dorne, I share my bed with the Fowler twins, Jeyne and Jennelyn. They are my best friends and we whisper secrets at night, also. I miss them sometimes, but you have become a real comfort for me, and I love being abed with you." Nym kissed her on the lips again, gave her a familiar squeeze, and said goodnight.

Before she fell asleep, Arya thought, I wish Lady Nym was my real sister instead of Sansa.

Note: What is it about our girl, Arya? Women want to mother her and men want to mentor her. Based on their personalities, in this fic Ashara is the normal, lemon cake baking mom, and Lady Nym is the madcap, sexy, ninja, tween beauty pageant mother.