Arya
"Are you sure we don't have this the wrong way?" Arya asked as she lifted up the heavy iron bar. It would have been hard enough on its own, as the cold metal was heavy and solid, but to add to her weariness a bucket of dirt hanging from each end. She was lying on a bench in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, though when she'd counted them after one rather boring day of serving Lord Tywin she'd found there had only been 34. It was said that it could house an army but on this night if there was an army within the great hall it was a spectral one. She was wearing a well-worn shirt that was just loose enough to allow movement while not so baggy as to get in the way; she loved the shirt as it allowed her to practice easier but she knew that if her mother ever saw her in it she'd be horrified. She could practically hear her screeching in horror, demanding she take it off and dress like a proper lady. That amused Arya now… Northern girls weren't proper ladies. Only the southerners wore dresses. Luckily Mystique wasn't interested in making her into a Southern Lady. No, her mentor wanted to make her a warrior.
Though Arya still found it odd that she was lifting the heavy bar.
"I thought you wanted me to be lithe and quick, like a cat. You said I was too small to wield a broadsword."
"That I did," Mystique said, still in her Jaime Lannister form. It had been months since Arya had seen the woman in any other body, let alone her natural blue form. It seemed so odd to Arya how natural it was for Mystique to remain as a man, though she supposed being a different woman would be odd too. She tried to imagine what it would be like to suddenly be in a body that was taller and older than her current form… perhaps one of the buxom serving women that King Robert had liked to drag onto his lap. Would she ever get used to walking up with breasts so big she couldn't see her feet and wide hips that would force her to twist if she walked between tight rows in a dining room? Or would it remain forever odd to her? Mystique didn't seem to mind but Arya couldn't imagine it, especially because she knew she'd always be short and thin and more a boy than a woman. Her father had claimed that her Aunt Lyanna had also been like her but had grown into the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms and Mystique had said that one day she'd be able to charm kings out of their crowns. Arya didn't see that fate for herself. Every time she looked in the mirror she just saw Arya Horseface.
"Then why am I lifting this burden?"
"Because while your greatest strength with be your speed and flexibility that doesn't mean you can't also be strong too. Visenya is best known for being lightning quick with Dark Sister but people forget the tales of how she could catch the punches from men twice her size and snap long spears with her bare hands. Perhaps you will always remain small, or perhaps when the change comes you'll shoot up until you are taller than the Mountain. But in either case you will be strong just as you are flexible." She paused and flexed her arm. "Like me." Arya had to admit that Mystique was right… while she was tall no one would call her thick like the Mormont women but she was strong and muscular all the same.
"Is that why I'm stuck acting like a fool?" Gendry complained. He was standing on a board supported over two long tables, arms spread out wide as he swayed slightly. Mystique had been calling out to him different things to do, sometimes as simple as taking a step forward, other times demanding and taxing like hopping on one foot and spinning in a circle.
"All you ever saw of Robert Baratheon was the old broken king who had gone to seed. Bloated and drunk, unable to get his own boots on because of his gut. But he wasn't always that way. Once he had been the Demon of the Trident, the man who was able to defeat Rhaegar Targaryen. Do you know how he managed that? It's not only because he was strong. Oh no… it was because he was fast for a man his size. When you face a large man your best way to win is to use your speed to defeat them. But when Baratheon was in his prime he threw aside such rules of combat. Because the man was far faster and for more nimble than he had a right to be. He could turn on a silver stag and he could dodge blows he should have been slain by. You will be a large man yourself, Gendry. You aren't fully grown yet and already you rival average size men. By the time we see a spring again you will match the Hound at the very least. I'd say the Mountain but people always tend to exaggerate the attributes of the dead. The point is that you could be a mighty warrior in a decade… or an unstoppable one. It all depends on if you listen to me."
Gendry grunted at that but otherwise remained on the board, adjusting his footing to steady himself.
Lifting the bar again Arya's mind wandered to how quiet things had been at Harrenhal since Tywin Lannister had left with the bulk of the army. Mystique had been provided with a small garrison to hold the castle, with Vargo Hoat and his Bloody Mummurs to support the Lannister ranks. The castle wasn't seen as having strategic value to the North, especially since Arya's father still believed that Tywin was playing some sort of mad game, claiming that Jaime Lannister wasn't being held in a Northern cell and was instead in command at Harrenhal. It amused Mystique to no end how her lie was causing everyone to behave exactly as she wanted without her having to ask for a thing. All she had to do was walk around Harrenhal and everyone left them alone. Tywin was sure that the North feared Jaime and would not attack and Arya's father was sure it was a weak trick and thus avoided the place. It made the cursed ruins of Harren the Black ironically the safest place in all of Westeros.
Their position within the Lannister Army also meant that they had a good idea what was going on with all the other kingdoms. Tywin had arrived in the Reach to find the Tyrell forces muddling about, unsure what to do now that Renly Baratheon had turned on them. According to the raven Mystique had received Littlefinger had already been sent by Joffrey to try and get them to turn their cloaks (Mystique had muttered that Joffrey probably just assumed that they could force the Tyrells to obey) but the Master of Coin had instead decided to, without the king's knowledge, offer the Tyrells a marriage pact to unite their houses. Tywin had quickly agreed and now the combined armies were racing towards King's Landing. The question was if they could reach it before Stannis Baratheon set sail… and without alerting the former Master of Ships that they were moving to confront him. It would be the quietest of races to determine who got there first.
Arya silently hoped that Tywin arrived just in time for Stannis to stroll out of the Red Keep and shoot a crossbow bolt right between his eyes.
As for the man whose foolish choices had caused the Reach to side with the Lannisters nothing had been heard of Renly since he'd sided with the Ironborn. The only interesting thing to come out of all of that was a tidbit Maester Maxell had dropped: apparently whoever Renly had talked to hadn't been acting under the orders of Balon Greyjoy and the Lord of the Iron Islands was so enraged that someone had dared acted without his command he commanded every ship in the Iron Fleet to return to Pyke to answer directly to him. Rumor was that old Balon had been plotting to enter the war himself but now those plans were dashed by this reckless action.
As for Arya's father if Tywin had thought that Ned Stark would rashly rush forward with their absence he was sorely mistaken. Instead the King in the North was using Tywin's departure to strengthen the defenses within the territories they held in the Riverlands. There were also rumors that her father had commanded several battalions to return North to reinforce the towns and hamlets that were favorite targets of the Iron Born marauders, just in case Balon decided to do something daring anyway.
All of this meant that life in Harrenhal was rather boring. Mystique-As-Jaime broke up the monotony with training but she couldn't spend all her time with her squires. Gendry was happy as a pig in slop working in the forge doing whatever it was he did in there (Arya never really understood how a sword was made… she just cared that it was sharp) so he never felt the crushing tedium that Arya did. Perhaps that was why she had been willing to talk with the Maester of Harrenhal. They discussed not just the war but also what a ruler had to do to manage their castle and those within. Because Arya was the Lady of Harrenhal and in Maxell's eyes he served her and her alone. So he would come to her before he went to Mystique and ask her opinion. Should he send out this letter, give out certain information? Of course he had no way of knowing just how closely bound Arya was to "Jaime Lannister". She refused to reveal that… just as she hadn't revealed to Mystique that Maxell was feeding her information.
Both claimed that they wanted to help her. That they were there for her. But she had learned from King's Landing and from Sansa that you could not trust people… especially those that claimed to have your best interests at heart. It would break her heart if either were betraying her but she would be prepared for it.
"Okay, that's enough Arya," Mystique said, walking over and grabbing the bar with one hand, easily lifting it so Arya could get off the bench.
"Showoff," Arya snarled, Mystique responding by flashing a rather rude gesture her way, a smirk on her lips.
"What about me?" Gendry called out.
Mystique glanced over at Gendry, about to saying something most likely witty and probably insulting, only to pause, her eyes flicking towards the doorway. Arya cocked her head, suddenly hearing distance shouts and the pounding of boots on the stone floor. Gendry sensed that something was up and hopped down without asking permission, hurrying over and grabbing the heavy mace he'd taken to training with a well as Needle, passing the latter to a grateful Arya. Mystique shifted into a defensive stance, the three tense and ready as the footfalls grew closer.
"Something's wrong," Arya said softly.
"Of course it is, your ladyship," Gendry said sarcastically.
"No, listen… the steps are slowing… and off." The steady rhythm had become off kilter, like a wagon with one of its wheels chopped so that it bumped along the road. Mystique nodded, clearly hearing it too, and that made her tense all the more.
Finally the runner made his way into the Hall. It was one of the Lannister soldiers, his red and gold uniform bathed with even more crimson thanks to the arrow that pierced his shoulder. His right foot was twisted at an odd angle and from the way he was clutching his stomach Arya knew that there had been far more damage done that what they could see. The soldier looked at them with wild eyes before staring at Mystique, his arm going up and fingers twitching as he took another step.
"Ser Jaime…" he managed before he fell in a boneless heap.
"Tomlin!" Mystique called out, rushing over to the guard and falling down beside him, bringing his head onto her lap. Arya and Gendry joined her with Arya wondering if Mystique was truly concerned about the guard or if it was merely her playing a part. With Mystique it was impossible to tell and Arya had a sense that even her mentor wasn't sure at times. "What happened? Why didn't alarms go up? Is it the Starks?" As she said that Arya braced herself, remembering exactly what they should do if it was her family. If any of the Stark bannermen were to take Harrenhal then Arya was to go out first with Mystique as Syrio shortly behind. She would offer information about the first embroidered piece of cloth she'd ever made that she at the very least had found acceptable and presented to her father as a gift. This would serve as proof she was who she said she was and would get them moved to safety. They had other plans as well, depending on which side did what, including if Stannis moved on them (that involved Gendry taking lead to remind the King of Dragonstone that he'd visited him at the smithy) or if someone unexpected made a move like Dorne (Mystique would adapt the guise she'd used once when she'd warmed the Red Viper's bed and claim Arya was his bastard daughter and Gendry a dear friend or if it was Oberyn himself keep the form of Syrio and discuss with the Prince the training she'd given to his daughter Natasha).
"We were... attacked from the inside. Before we could give any warning."
"Who..." Mystique paused, her nostrils flaring as her lips pressed in a grim line. "Hoat."
"We need to get out of here, now," Gendry said fiercely. "You could change your face to look like a servant." Arya glanced at him, startled he was being so open about Mystique's powers but then realized that Tomlin was at most only a few minutes away from death so it didn't matter what he heard.
"No... putting all the servants to the sword. No hope, Ser Jaime... no hope..." the soldier stiffened for a brief second before he suddenly went lax, his eyes losing their light as a soft rattling sound tumbling from his lips. Mystique sighed and set the guard down, shaking her head.
"This isn't good."
"No it damn well isn't," Gendry agreed. He glanced at Arya. "You've been nosing around here a bunch... any secret ways out?"
She shook her head. "Not from where we are. What passages I found are too far away."
"And we don't know how many of them still lead outside, not after Aegon attacked with his dragon," Mystique complained, drawing out her sword and looking it over. "We're going to have to talk with him."
"And what? Hope he doesn't slit our throats?" Gendry complained.
"We can't hide," Arya pointed out.
"Yes when can."
"Not for long I mean."
"Arya's right. Jaime Lannister is a grand prize for Hoat. Stark will be curious who is impersonating Jaime and Stannis will be willing to risk a fake if it means a strong prize. I'll convince him that I'll go willingly if he spares you two."
"But that will leave you in chains and us with the Bloody Mummurs."
"No, just me in chains," Mystique said firmly, staring Arya down hard. "You and Gendry will leave. Make for the God's Eye and set up camp there. No one will bother you and I'll meet up with you there."
"Just like that?" Gendry said with a raised eyebrow.
Mystique smirked and lifted her hand, changing it from Jaime Lannister's thick strong wrist to her more lean and lithe one. "Shackles mean little when you can make them loose with a blink of an eye." She returned her hand to normal and sheathed her sword. "Keep your weapons ready but not out. We want to be cautious but not give him a reason to attack."
"She's talking to you, you know," Gendry commented as they walked out of the Hall of a Hundred Hearths.
"She was talking to both of us."
"Between the two of us who is the more reckless?"
"I have never been reckless. Everything I have done has been with a purpose."
Gendry just rolled his eyes at that.
The great courtyard of Harrenhal was said to be so large that an entire army could camp there and still have room to tether their horses. Arya didn't know about that (and wondered why everything was measured with armies in Harrenhal) but she did know that it had enough space for the entirety of the Brave Companions, along with the torn apart corpses of soldiers and servants, and a great bondfire made from the shattered remains of the supply wagons Tywin had left behind. The sellswords had always bothered Arya without her even needing to interact with them and Gendry hadn't shared any pleasing stories about them with her. They never had done anything that might draw the attention of the commanders of the Lannister army but as Gendry had told it, "there was a way about them, a gleam in their eye even as they smiled at you, like they hadn't quite decided what they would do to you or when but whatever it was you wouldn't be pleased with it at all." Seeing the way they were eying the three of them up Arya was prone to agree with him.
At the head of the group stood Vargo Hoat. A tall man even when compared to the tall Westlanders, he wasn't so much thin as gaunt like a starved corpse. He was dressed in leathers and armor and a cloak with a great furry collar that at one time probably had been worth quite a bit but time and battle had seen it stained and matted in places. At his feet sat a helm that she knew Hoat had commissioned Gendry to make him, one designed to look like the skeletal head of a demonic goat. Around his neck he wore a chain of linked coins that Arya had heard represented every city and kingdom he'd ever fought in. He wore a sword on his back and had two axes, one on each hip, while many of his men held bows of varying condition; she didn't miss that they had arrows already notched and ready even if they weren't pointed at that. She had no doubt they would be in a heartbeat if needed.
She placed a hand on Needle, needing the comfort the hilt of her beloved blade brought her.
"Ah, Kingthlayer," Hoat said, his fat tongue darting out between his lips as slobber dribbled down his chin. "Tho good of you to final join uth."
"I suppose there is no use in making a witty comment, since it is quite clear what has happened here." Mystique looked at the bodies of the dead men and women with the aloofness of Jaime Lannister but Arya knew that her mentor was seething. Mystique had told her that killing did not bother her but only when it served a purpose... to kill any other way wasn't offensive it was lazy. And Mystique loathed laziness and killing unarmed servants was just that. "So, who is it that bought you? The Starks? Stannis?"
Hoat rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. "Many in thith army have been of thaying that you lack forethight, Ther Jaime, and now I thee they are right. Thtark ith become more bloodthirtht, thith ith true, but hith Northern honor would never let him work with the liketh of uth." He said that mockingly and Arya forced herself not to react to the slight against her father. "Ath for Thhannith I would not go near him or hith camp for all the gold in Braavoth. Even without hith Red Woman the man would thtill thee uth gelded or worthe for all we have done." He shook his head and shrugged. "No, it wath the enemy you had dithmithed that bought uth... Renly Baratehon."
Arya swallowed at that and saw Gendry tense at that declaration. Of all their plans the idea of Renly taking Harrenhal had never entered their minds. The man was defeated, his army split in two and divided among the other kings with only the rebel Ironborn to call his own and even then Balon Greyjoy sought to rob him of that. He'd been driven from Westeros from what they had heard and Mystique herself had stated that the only way Renly could ever hope to regain a foothold in the War of the Now Four Crowns would have been to do something bold and brash and mad. Convincing Hoat to turn his cloak was one such way.
'And as Mystique is fond of saying, 'A desperate man is not one you wish to negotiate with'.'
Still, her mentor had to try.
"And just what has Renly promised that I couldn't match?"
"Quite a bit, Kingthlayer. It theemths that the wealth of the Lannithterth isn't a great as your lord father witheth the world to believe... according to Renly your mineth are empty and tho thoon will be your cofferth." Hoat began to pace, leisurely gesturing as he spoke. "Renly will give uth all of Cathterly Rock once he taketh the Iron Throne. Ath well as our pick of treathureth. I have already thelected your thithter... tell me, ith thhe a good fuck? Does thhe thquel when you thtick her? You only thample her puthy or have at her ath? I plan to take both."
"Renly is a fool if he seeks to kill me, Hoat. I'm worth more alive than dead. Take me and you can ransom me off. I won't fight so long as you agree to terms of surrender."
"Your father will kill uth anyway... thith way I atleatht get thome thatithfaction from hacking your thmug head from your thoulderth!" With that Hoat gripped one of his axes. "Of courthe I'll have to do it after we riddle you with arrowth."
"And there is no convincing you otherwise?" Mystique asked. "And no chance of you sparing my squires?"
"The boy we might... but only if he letth the retht of uth have firtht go at the girl'th tight quim."
"Fuck you," Gendry said, hefting his mace.
"No no... we'll fuck you. Arrowth!"
"WAIT!" Mystique called out, holding out her hands. "Wait... may I have one final request?"
"Of courthe," Hoat said, amused to see what Mystique would ask for.
"Could you say "Silly Sally sadly sat squarely soon shortly after supper"?" Hoat's smile dropped and Mystique smirked, drawing her blade. "Is that a no?"
"On my mark!" Hoat called out.
Mystique whispered, "Arya, Gendry, drop to the ground the moment he calls for them to fire. Then we rush."
"Ready... aim..."
"You know," a new voice called out, gravely and age-worn, "this reminds me of a riddle."
Arya turned and felt her a stone drop deep into the pit of her stomach as Maester Maxell shuffled from the entrance of one of the five towers, the heavy links of his chain clinking slightly as he made his way between the two groups. Gendry mumbled something about what the crazy old man was doing but Arya wasn't truly paying attention, focused on trying to keep her breathing under control. Maxell had been kind to her, a rare newcomer in these last few months who hadn't wanted to use her or abuse her. Someone who knew who she was and had offered her a spot of hope that the world wasn't as cruel as she had come to see it to be. He, like Mystique and to a lesser extent Gendry, had allowed her to become Arya Stark again, if even for a moment. And even as Mystique slapped her hand onto her shoulder and squeezed so hard it made her very bones ache, all Arya wanted to do was shove the old man out of the path of the arrows that were now pointed in his direction. She'd rather die herself than rob the world of his kindness.
"I thought I told you to kill the Maethter!" Hoat snarled, great gobbles of spit flying from his lips and splattering his men's faces as he rounded on them, for once not because of his obese tongue. "Doeth that look like dead to you? Why ith he thtill alive? Who wath thupothed to kill the Maethter?!"
"Now, how did it go?" Maxell said, still paying no heed to the sellswords that were standing before him. "Ah yes… in a room stand four men, one before three. Of the three the first is a king, splendid in his crown and holding his scepter as if he were holding court before all of his kingdom. Next to him is priest of the high faith, cloaked both in fine robes and the holiness of his belief. And finally there is the rich man, opulent in every piece of fabric and bauble he wears, wanting for nothing. Before them stands a simple sellsword, talented in his profession yes but not over wise very bright."
"Move… move…" Arya whispered, pleaded. She didn't get what he was doing… there was no way to distract the Mummurs enough for them to escape so all he was doing was sacrificing himself for nothing. "Move…"
"What ith thith you are blabbering about, old man?" Hoat demanded, waving his axe at the Maester.
Maxell continued on, standing there with his hands folded, looking more like he was standing in a garden watching the bees gather pollen than facing his death. "Each man commands the sellsword to kill the other two. The king states that to do anything else is to be a traitor to the land of his birth. Religion does not matter without order and wealth is meaningless if a kingdom falls. The priest says that our lives on this world are fleeting but the pleasure… or torture… that await us in the next life are eternal. Crowns and coins matter little to the gods so kill the other two. The rich man scoffs and points out how rulers and septons demand things from those that worship them but a rich man is the only one that can give so the choice is clear. And it is. So tell me… who lives and who dies?"
"You!" Hoat snarled. "You are the one who dieth! Arrowth!"
"NO!" Arya screamed, breaking from Mystique, drawing Needle. She had just passed Maxell when he caught her, his old worn hands surprisingly strong as he yanked her so that she was standing in front of him, her back pressed to his form. Her heart was pounding and for a moment she fought against his hold, not knowing just what she would do against the entirety of the Brave Companions but refusing to let the old man die without trying something. But then her head twisted and she caught sight of Maxell's face.
The old man winked at her.
"FIRE!" Hoat screamed.
The bows twanged. Shafts whistled through the air.
But there was no sickeningly wet sound from them piercing flesh. Nor was there the clatter from the steel heads hitting flagstone. Instead there was only the sound of Arya's breathing. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head, her eye line following Maxell's now raised arms to the arrows that hovered in midair, stopped dead in their pursuit.
"The answer," Maxell said softly, "is the one who doesn't need sellswords to kill for them." The humor in his voice faded and was replaced by mild disgust. "You humans and your arrows." Arya slowly backed away from him, eyes wide as Maxell rolled his wrist and the arrows all rotated, facing now Hoat's gobsmacked men. With a light pushing motion of his hands he somehow made the arrows float towards the startled and now quite terrified sellswords, who could only watch as the arrows came to hover right at their bodies, spinning slightly as Maxell observed them with mild interest.
"What… what the fuck are you?" Hoat managed to get out.
"The future, my boy." And with that he gave a small jerk with his hands and the arrows drove themselves into the Brave Companions, the silence of the night instantly broken by the screams and cries of the turncoats. Some went down instantly, shafts driven through the brains or hearts, while others died more messy deaths, flailing about as they tried desperately to escape the end that there was no running from. But others didn't gain mortal wounds, instead being pierced in the arms or legs or shoulders. Hoat himself received arrows right through his hands, his fat tongue lulling out of his mouth as he bellowed in pain.
"Bloody hell," Gendry murmured, Arya realizing that Mystique and him had finally walked up and joined them. Glancing at her mentor Aryra realized that Mystique… wasn't startled at all.
"…this was a fucking test!" she whined, whirling and jabbing her finger at Mystique.
"Language, sweet girl, language," Maxell said with a smile. "It is what separates us from the animals." He glance at Hoat proved just who he was referring too.
"Cutting it a bit close there, weren't you Erik?" Mystique asked, her form rippling as she at long last dropped her Jaime Lannister disguise and took on her natural blue form and the white dress that she had taken to wearing, the only hint of who she had been moments ago being the sword on her hip.
"Not at all, Raven my dear."
"Admit it, you were late."
"I am never late. Nor am I early. I arrive precisely when I mean to. Oh?" One of the sellswords that had gotten only a painful wound rather than a killing one decided enough was enough and rushed forward, a great bastard sword gripped in his hands as he screamed nonsense. Maxell looked on amused while Mystique once more grabbing Arya and pulling her close to her so she didn't leap forward again. The sellsword swung his blade only for it to stop a hair's breadth from Maxell's forehead, the maester not even blinking at how close it was. Instead he merely glanced up and the sellsword cried out as he rose in the air.
'No… not him… his breastplate,' Arya realized, seeing how the man's limbs dangled as he hung above them. Maxell made a shooing motion with his right hand and the sellsword floated back until he was directly in the middle of the two groups.
"Every time I believe my opinion of you close minded simpletons couldn't get any lower I discover that I have not hit rock bottom… I am in the highest tower of Oldtown and there are so many more stories to go." And with that Maxell squeezed his fist.
Arya grimaced, the sound of the breastplate being crushed inward like a tin toy under a wagon wheel more than enough for her. She didn't need to see the end result.
The Brave Companions clearly had come to the same conclusion and had broken ranks, rushing towards the main gate in a frenzied mess. They ignored Hoat's demands that they reform and 'kill the fucking bathtardth!' but what they did not ignore were the great doors upon the gate slamming shut before them, one man diving to try and get through only to be split in half when the doors shut with him between them. The sellswords turned and Maxell, lips pursed, raised his hands and lifted up two of the wagons they'd selected to hold their plunder, the wood groaning in protest as it was lifted by its metal fittings before the old man dropped his hands and in turn sent the wagons crashing down, boxing the men in.
Gendry just shook his head. "Just when I think I'm getting used to things..." Arya found herself agreeing.
Mystique moved to stand with Maxell, leaving Arya and Gendry planted in place, the sudden feeling that she was standing before her father and mother being judged slamming into her core. The two couldn't be more different, one old with a regal air while the other was young but looked like a creature from Old Nan's tales. Mystique was clearly amused by their shock and Arya found herself growing annoyed.
"I'm right though. This was a test, wasn't it?"
"Of course it was," Mystique stated with a shrug. "I trusted you but Erik needed to be sure."
Arya was about to press on the fact that Maxell, or Erik, had lied to her only for Gendry to speak up. "Be sure of what?"
"Of your character, my boy," Maxell said with an almost grandfatherly smile. "And you have both impressed. For you, Gendry, I needed to see that you could remain in our world when a normal life tempted you." He glanced at Arya from the corner of his eye. "Did you tell her that Klaue offered to let you come with them as they marched? Or that Mystique proposed sending you to Iron Pointe to study under Antony Stark?"
Arya's eyes went wide and she turned to stare at Gendry, the young man rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I couldn't leave the two of them. They'd never survive without me. Both love to bumble into messes…"
Maxell snorted in amusement before turning to Arya. "As for you I knew you'd join us in a heartbeat... but I needed to know that you had the patience for what was to come. To be around people that, in your old life, you would have hated and scorned. And though it was... touch and go... you managed it in the end."
"And then there was my test," Mystique stated. "I'm sorry for all this, I truly am... but I believe you could surpass me as one of the greatest spies and assassins in the world. But I needed to know how you handled lies and loyalties."
Arya considered that before looking at Maxell. "You wanted to see who I would be loyal to, you or Mystique."
"I did. And you surprised me. You were loyal to yourself first without betraying either of us. That is a difficult balance yet you handled it well." He walked towards the two of them, placed a worn hand on each of their shoulders. "But it was your actions tonight that proved it to me. Strength, resolve... loyalty. You are ready to join us... to become one of us." He let go and straightened, removing the maester chain from around his neck and tossing it aside. Arya briefly wondered if he had told her the truth and that he had killed the last maester and taken his place but decided not to ask, sensing that what was to come was important and silence was needed. Maxell held out his arms and Mystique, picking up a discarded dagger, cut the shapeless robe away to reveal that underneath Maxell wore a black jacket and trousers. There was no armor on him but at once Arya realized that one of his power had no need for such things. He raised his hand and from a high window in Harrenhal came down a simple cloth bag, from which he drew forth a metal faceless helm and a black and red cloak, both of which he put on. "And now... let us do this right.
"Arya Stark, Gendry of King's Landing... I have had many names in my life. Yesterday I was Maxell to you. Tomorrow I will be Magento." Arya felt a thrill run down her spine and she must have shown her excitement for both Magento and Mystique smiled at her, the former's eyes twinkling in amusement. "To those across the Narrow Sea I have been the White Pilgrim and the Creator. I have been friend and teacher and master to many. To Mystique I am family." With that he raised his hands and, to the shock of Arya and Gendry, began to rise in the air. "My father was Daemon of the Gold Company until his cousin Maelys the Monstrous slew him and I faked my own death, so that the world would believe my line snuffed out. But today I reveal to you that I live! That my line remains! I am Erik Blackfyre, returned once more to my homelands!"
As he spoke he rotated in the air and the squirming, flailing bodies of the Brave Companions lifted up from the ground. Some were pulled by their armor, others the arrows that were still driven into their flesh and their screams were the worst. As for Hoat Arya watched as his chain of coins coiled around his neck and yanked him up like a gilded noose, enough to make his eyes bulge but not enough to kill. Into the air the moved, like leaves caught in a Northern breeze, until they hung over the bonfire that still burned and lit the courtyard. The men began to cry out, their pleas cut off at times by coughing fits as the smoke burned their lungs. Magenta glanced down and Arya and Gendry looked to their right to see that Mystique had pulled two more objects from cloth bag that had held Magneto's helm. The first was a bottle of green liquid and the other was a strange purple stone that had a scaled quality to it and was the size of a large loaf of bread. The stone was the first that she tossed inside, Arya a bit startled by how casually Mystique threw it as it was beautiful and she imagined it was quite expensive, and then the bottle. The moment the glass shattered there was a great rush of heat and green flames usurped the orange and red ones, casting an odd and eerie glow upon the ruins of Harrenhal's courtyard. Some of the Brave Companions switched from begging to cursing them all, though those that continued to plead saw their voices become all the more frantic and high pitched. Mystique moved back to Arya and Gendry, shifting to stand behind them, her hands pushing them a bit closer to the flames but no where near the damage… more just enough to feel the heat of the emerald fire.
"My cousins lost the knowledge," Magneto declared. "Their attempt at Summerhall was twisted and it was only a quirk of fate that saw Raven and Rhaegar blessed. Aerys' attempt with Rickard Stark was flawed to begin with. But we Blackfyres have never forgotten." The corners of his lips quirked up. "Fire and Blood."
And with that he released the Brave Companions.
One moment they were hanging in the sky. The next they had plummeted down, crashing into the bonfire, the flames rushing up to greet them, the only thing to escape the blaze being their screams. They were horrible sounds, high pitched squeals like those of dying pigs that hurt her ears. Gendry was clearly just as shaken but Mystique refused to let them back away, forcing them to watch. Because of the size of the fire they didn't actually see the men light up and that was a kindness but occasionally from behind the glowing burning hunks of wood they could see an arm or a leg twist and thrash about and at one moment Arya swore she saw Hoat's face appear, his beard burning along with his skin, his fat tongue dangling out of his mouth as it cooked like an overstuffed sausage.
Then the fires flashed. Not like the normal light flames gave off. No… something strange. Something not of this world. Or, perhaps, of this world but long forgotten, buried along with legends and fantasies, only now awakened. The fire flashed again and Arya felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and there was a great pressure in the air that reminded her of the moment right before a storm hit and how the entire world felt heavier-
The bonfire flared and a wave a green energy burst from it, sweeping across the courtyard and striking her and Gendry.
Arya cried out and heard Gendry do the same. But it was not in pain. No, this was something else. Something so strange and yet so wonderful. It made her insides quiver and her breath come out in gasps. Her body tensed, going rigid even as her muscles filled with tremors. Her eyes rolls back in her head and she trembled and rocked as she felt herself fall over some edge and tumble into mind numbing darkness. She dimly felt someone guiding her to the ground, her legs no longer able to support her, but she didn't know who. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't even feel. There was only the energy, the raw beautiful, terrible energy that laid claim to all she was and that she welcomed within her. She drew it in deeper, cuddling it like she had Nymeria when she was a puppy, clinging to it like she'd seen her mother hold her father. Pulled it in, let it see all of her. Her secrets. Her desires. Her dreams and nightmares. Things she didn't even let herself know, the things she wished for that she'd never admit and the faults in herself that she hated. She let it all in.
Finally Arya began to sense the waking world again. She was on her back, staring up at a sky tinged with blues and pinks and purples. It was dawn and she realized she'd been lost to the feeling of that strange energy for a rather long time. She rose, expecting to feel her body sore and cramped but instead found she was rather refreshed. Like she'd snuck in a quick nap that had returned all her energy.
"Finally awake, I see," Mystique purred, Arya turning to see her mentor sitting on a barrel, watching her impishly. "Erik, she's awake."
"And so is our blacksmith," Magneto called out. Arya turned to stare at Gendry only for her brain to come to a screeching halt.
"That was… wow," he said, slowly standing up. He reached up to rub his head only to stop, staring at his hand in shock. "What?" Arya didn't blame him… she was just as startled. First there was the fact that Gendry appeared older. He had been at least a few years older than here, possibly a year older than Sansa, two or three years younger than Robb and Jon. Already tall like a man but that was to be expected as it was said that bastards, for reasons even Maester Luwin could never explain, grew faster than trueborn children. But now he was truly of age, looking to be nearly twenty years of age. Taller than her father and perhaps as tall as King Robert but Gendry didn't have the massive gut and the fat face of the king. No, he was like the Mountain, with broad shoulders and wide chest and arms thicker than some tree trunks. Mystique had been right. He was bare chested and his pants strained against his thick legs, showing off every curve and bulge of his body.
She didn't know why but staring at him made her guts clench in the oddest way. It reminded her of the feeling when the energy had hit her and she squirmed at the sight of him.
The growth would have been startling on its own but it was something else that held her gaze. Something far more startling than Gendry gaining a few years.
He was made of steel.
Gendry looked like a great metal statue one would have found in the Red Keep. His flesh had been replaced with iron, plated and lined in some places while in others it was smoothed steel that moved like it was quicksilver. His eyes were empty reflective orbs and even his hair was now a solid piece of black metal. He wiggled his fingers before tapping them against his arm, producing the same clank one would get if they struck a breast plate with a hammer. Arya felt a grin form on her face… and Gendry began to hyperventilate.
"Focus, young man," Magneto told him firmly. "Focus and breathe. It isn't permanent. I can feel it." Gendry shot him a look and Magneto merely wiggled his fingers, causing the blacksmith to grimace in remembrance that yes, of all people Magneto would know a thing or two about metal. "Breathe…"
It took a moment but slowly Gendry's metal form flickered and returned to his normal flesh, so that it appeared he'd never changed at all. Well, save his age and when he locked eyes with Arya she knew that even he wouldn't be able to lie to himself and claim that nothing had happened.
Arya shook her head and grinned, looking down at her… hands…
Where once her fingers had been stubby things they were now long and graceful. She let her gaze wander, raising up her arms to see that they too appeared to have lengthened… not obscenely so but to give her a longer reach with her blade. They were muscled too, resembling Mystique's build and when she looked down she realized that her legs were the same. Her pants were now almost painfully tight and rode up halfway up her calves and clung to her hips and rear. She wasn't tall like Sansa and people would still consider her short but she no longer was the tiny thing that would startle people by easily getting underfoot. Speaking of feet someone had removed her boots which was good as she doubted she'd be able to fit into them now. She ran her hands along her stomach, feeling the hard muscle there, and then up her chest where small breasts had blossomed. Nothing obscene, thankfully… she had no need for large breasts or even average sized ones as those would get in the way. But still, what she had now as far more than what she'd started with. The shirt she was wearing was no longer loose and in fact was tight enough that even her small cleavage looked large and prominent as it strained the fabric while her muscled stomach was visible to all. Looking about rapidly she spotted a gleaming shield and plucked it up, staring at her face.
Aunt Lyanna stared back at her.
She looked to be seven and ten, all the awkwardness that came from 'the change' as so many called it bypassed in one night. The long face that had earned her so much mockery at Winterfell had changed little but now she realized she'd grown into her features, just as her father had promised. She resembled greatly the statue of her aunt in the crypts, only now in the flesh. Her hair had grown out as she slept, falling in a curtain of darkness that just brushed her shoulders. This was a face that would start wars and drive princes mad, just as her aunt's had.
Arya paused. She dropped the shield and thrust out her hand. Nothing happened. She jumped but fell down onto her knees. She pinched herself and let out a yelp.
"What is it?" Mystique asked, amused.
"I'm still me," Arya whispered
"Well of course you are!" Mystique said playfully.
"But I was supposed to change! Be blue like you or turn into a dog or change my face! I'm just… older!" Magento cocked an eyebrow at that, Mystique smirked, and Gendry tilted his head. Arya huffed in annoyance and slapped at the ground. She knew she must look silly, a grown woman throwing a tantrum, but she was just so disappointed! "This isn't fair! Who cares if I'm pretty, I wanted to have powers like all of you! To be able to fight and help! Why does everyone else-what?" Everyone was staring at her and finally Mystique just pointed at the ground. Arya looked down…
…and saw her hand buried to the wrist in the stone.
'No, not buried,' she thought, wiggling her fingers. It was like the stone wasn't there at all. 'Or my hand isn't.' She pulled her hand back up, wiggled her fingers, and then pressed it against the ground, focusing before she felt the cold stone give way and her hand easily slip through it. She pulled herself free again and stood up, a grin blossoming on her face as she raised her foot, tapping it first against the barrel Mystique was sitting on and then passing it right through, the barrel not rocking in the slightest.
"You were saying?" Mystique asked.
Arya let out a whoop of joy and darted off in a run.
"Arya!" Gendry cried out as she raced towards a wall but she just narrowed her eyes and grinned and plowed towards it. There was a brief moment of darkness and then she was inside the castle, standing in one of the hallways. Panting, Arya turned and did it again, bursting back out into the courtyard and coming to a stop before the group.
"This… is… amazing!" she squealed. "I can walk through walls! I can dive through things! Does that mean swords can't hurt me? Could you shoot an arrow at me and it'd go right through? I mean, I know that arrows would go through me anyway, they go through everyone. But they wouldn't hurt me! Though I guess they wouldn't go through Gendry when he's all metal. But I can go through walls! I could walk right through a guard, couldn't I? They would yell at me to stop and brace the exit and I'd just pass right through them!"
Gendry covered his eyes. "Uh, Arya?"
"What?" she said. He pointed at her and she looked down… and shrieked when she saw she was completely naked. "AAAAAAAA!" Her hands flew up to cover her body, one arm laying across her newly grown breasts, the other splayed over her nethers. She squeezed her legs together and shuffled, her cheeks growing red in embarrassment. Gendry looked away and Mystique let out a snicker and Arya, suddenly more angry than bashful, stood straight with her hands on her hips. "Go on! Take it all in!" She waved her hand at her naked form.
"Perhaps you should wait until you learn to take things with you before you run through more walls," Magneto said politely, passing her back her clothes, Mystique covering her mouth with her hand. Arya snatched back her clothing and Magneto finally turned around and held out his cape, shielding her from the others as she quickly got dressed, snarling as she wiggled into the far too tight clothing. She'd need to raid the castle for garments that actually fit! Her small clothes had burst off of her apparently and left her only with her shirt and pants and those two made her look like she was some pirate queen from Lys.
"This is going to take some getting used to," Gendry finally said once Arya had made herself decent, the large youth still staring at his hands like he expected them to bite him.
Magneto nodded. "And you will have plenty of time to learn and master your abilities. We will teach you. And together… we will change Westeros." He walked forward and once more placed a hand on their shoulders and it was only then that Arya noticed the newest member of their group, for upon Magento's shoulder sat a small purple dragon, its bright eyes locking with her own before it let out a tiny cry. Mystique moved behind Magneto, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his opposite shoulder. "My great Colossus… my dear Shadow Cat… I welcome you to the Brotherhood of the Blackfyres."
~MC~MC~MC~
Author Notes: Welcome to the chapter that launched a thousand edits on Tvrtropes!
I am going to do my author notes as I edit the chapter, so we'll start at the beginning. We see Mystique training both Arya and Gendry, as I wanted to show she wasn't laxing with Arya nor was Gendry just along for the ride. She sees potential in him too… and does feel a debt to him for saving them, even if Mystique could have killed Slynt on her own. As to whether she knows he is Robert's son I don't believe I ever had her reveal one way or another… if I have let me know.
So this also might be the longest chapter I've written. A lot had to happen and there was no way I was going to split it up so you guys get a treat. I expect reviews… long ones that lead to conversations!... as payment!
We get a bit of housecleaning with this chapter to explain where everyone is. No shocking reveal about the Reach turning their cloaks in this book as that isn't the focus. The war is actually just a backdrop for the true battles that are to come.
I know a few wondered if there was a real Syrio after I mentioned him training Natasha but here I can confirm that no, that was Mystique. Remember she is older than Ned, born in 259, 4 years before him, and she is only a year younger than Oberyn.
Things can never be peaceful in Harrenhal. In canon it is the Faceless Man who slaughters many to allow Arya to escape. Here we have Hoat turning his cloak far earlier and for Renly who does the deed. I knew early on that Hoat and his men would be the ones to end the Harrenhal Saga (everyone knows Toriyama wanted to end at the Harrenhal Saga ;) ) and I've been looking forward to it for a while…
…except dear god his lisp. As I tweeted out (and if you aren't following me on Twitter what is wrong with you?) if you hear a high pitch scream it is my spellcheck crying.
But then we have the return of the riddle and the reveal that some of you already figured out: Maxell is Magneto. I knew for a LONG time that Magneto would hide out as the Maester of Harrenhal I just didn't decide until late in the scripting process that he'd hint at it with Arya. I decided that I didn't want it to come out of the blue… much like some of the other twists to come in this series, such as what happened to Rickon and Loki's location, I wanted to include JUST enough that when you reread the series you pick up on little clues.
Some asked me which version of Magneto I would used and while I never answered there was zero doubt it was be Sir Ian. He is MY Magneto… the kindly grandfather who, if only for a small twist of fate, would have been a wonderful teacher and grandfather who would tell stories and delight children.
With Magneto I am reminded of Megatron from IDW and his book Towards Peace. In it Megatron stated that he'd secured his ion cannon to his arm and would not remove it until there was peace in the universe. Until the very idea of a weapon was foreign to the world… and on the day that he and only he remembered what that weapon was, that it was a weapon at all, only on that day would he remove it. I think that expresses well Magneto… he wants peace and a better world but he uses that desire as a crutch for the horrible things he does. Much like Doom he is the hero of another story… the only problem is for so many others his story is a horror tale.
Also, I knew from the moment I decided where Arya would meet Magneto he would pull the "You homo sapiens and your guns" moment. It is just TOO GOOD for me not to adapt. Yes, maybe the wording is a bit clunky but I don't care that is utterly badass and the perfect way to show just how much Westeros is going to change.
Magneto has arrived, bitches.
…and apparently he quotes Gandalf.
:P
Maxell's outfit also comes from the first films as it was hard to justify the classic purple… and the fact that they are Blackfyre colors…
Magneto being Erik Blackfyre was something that came in the middle of the scripting process and something I danced back and forth on before deciding to go with it. It adds to the mythos and gives him a reason to suddenly come out of the shadows now… the war has given him a chance to start the 6th Blackfyre Rebellion and that is a perfect use for the Brotherhood. For those wondering his father Dameon was the leader of the sellsword company who was killed by the last Blackfyre Pretender.
I mentioned it with Dany but here we get full confirmation: in order to awaken the mutant gene one needs three things: Fire of some kind. A connection to dragons (eggs will do, wildfyre will do, the blood of a Targ will do; more than one is even more powerful). And human sacrifice. We saw it with Dany and Logan (though they were a bit more… extreme; they could have just waited outside the fire. Hell, if they had waited there is a chance Jorah and the bloodriders would have become mutants instead of Dany and Logan taking it all), we saw it with Mystique (Summerhall), and now we see it with Arya and Gendry.
The basis for this is two fold, both connected to the X-Men. First we have Magneto's machine from the first X-Men film. This one just works better. The second is from X-Men Evolution and Magneto's device in the first season of that show. It amplified powers but also displayed a second feature that we see here: it ages up characters to adulthood or back down to the prime of their life. This is how Magneto can be so spritely here… he's done it before. Same with Mystique. And it is also how Gendry and Arya end up as adults.
I know some of you might be upset that I aged Arya up to adulthood. I have my reasons, namely that we've already seen things accelerating in turns of wars and battle. Arya is going to be a part of that REAL soon and while I know comics have shown younger people fighting… I don't feel comfortable, even here, having kids who haven't even gone through puberty fighting in bloody battles. Arya and Gendry's age progression to adults was something I decided VERY late in the process (in fact I had this chapter written before I changed my mind and added it in) but its something I wanted to do. It gets them both to proper fighting ages so they can be truly part of the action. It also creates more drama for the next book (Arya is still mentally a child… and now she is in the body of a beautiful woman with all the urges and desires of one… she is going to be in for strange ride).
Next, by making them both legal I can explore their relationship. Colossus and Shadowcat were a couple (are? I honestly can't keep track anymore) in the comics but a complaint was that Colossus was an adult and Kitty started as a minor. And I know in ancient times children wed early and Dany is really 13 when she first had sex with Drogo and blah blah blah I don't care. I find it icky so I am avoiding it. Now, let's be clear that I'm not going to have Gendry take her behind a blacksmith shop next time we see them. One because I don't write lemons (here, at least) and two because again she and him are both still mentally young. They are mature for their age but they aren't ready for that. This allows me to explore a young person growing up and feeling desires without writing about a preteen.
And as I said, the way of giving them powers is inspired by X-Men Evolution where they did the same thing, so I have a Marvel reason behind it.
I'll also be honest… it's hard for me to write about this characters and see them as their younger selves. I see Sansa as Sophie is today, not her as a child. Same with Arya. This helps me mentally write them.
The final reason? The Night's Queen. She aged up Sansa's body. Erik Blackfyre aged up Arya. Ice and Fire… both altering two Stark daughters. Interesting mirroring, ain't it?
Hopefully people aren't too upset, though I am sure there are a few that will be annoyed. I will only repeat that Arya's transformation into Shadowcat, both powerwise and physically, won't be just brushed aside. It will be covered and cause drama for the rest of the story. After all… she truly isn't the daughter Ned and Cat last saw anymore, is she?
Now then, to Arya and Gendry's powers. Most people called it but yes, they are Shadowcat and Colossus. Though both need to be trained… especially Arya, who needs to learn how to take her clothing with her. I know some suggested Wolfsbane (due to Maise's role in that movie) or Rogue (which is actually an idea I never considered) but Shadowcat just fits her FAR too well. She can't learn to take faces but this is the next best thing for our happy little assassin. And those powers make them suddenly VERY powerful in the World of Westeros… especially Arya. With training she might be the most deadly person in Westeros. What good are armor or hammers when someone can leave a wood shard in your heart?
Now, some may wonder about Mystique and Magneto and how… close they are. I won't say if they are a couple but they certainly act like mom and dad here and Targs did love marrying within the family so distant cousins wouldn't be unheard of…
Finally we have the final reveal, another super late addition but one that I LOVE… Lockheed! Kitty's favorite dragon joins the mix, born thanks to Magneto but through Tully blood there might just be a bit of the blood of a dragon in Arya to make her a Dragonseed…
As for where his egg came from? It was Mystique's, saved from Summerhall and one of the ones Aegon the Unlikely tried to hatch. For whatever reason it wasn't ready to be born.
Next time we jump back to Dragonstone to check in with Jane and, unless the writing fairy makes me write a ton more than I expect, we'll be having a double POV as we also leap to return to Dany, Doom, Logan, and Jorah in Qarth.