A/N: Thanks to all those who've been kind enough to take a minute and leave a review. It really means a lot to get the feedback. Your reviews make the muse happy which encourages me to write. It certainly inspired me to churn this chapter out so quickly.
Our Blades Are Sharp
By Spectre4hire
37: Arya
"What do you see?"
"Nothing," Arya muttered, frustrated. Wondering how long she's had her eyes closed, and in all that time all she's seen is darkness.
Alysane chuckled, "Did you think this was going to be easy?"
"No," Arya bit down so as to not give a more snappish response that threatened to slip from her growing impatience. She squirmed where she sat, bothered by the cold and dampness that was seeping into her breeches from the muddy ground. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel Alysane Mormont smiling at her from where she was standing behind Arya.
"This is stupid," Arya huffed, having enough of her time wasted. She could be with Dacey, learning more about fighting and scouting or sparring with Lyanna or practicing shooting arrows with Jory. Instead, she was here, and she found herself hating it.
Arya blinked to see the eyes of the heart tree staring down at her, resembling slits of blood with a mouth carved as if crying out in rage. Daylight splintered down to shower her in light, slipping through the tall branches of oak and pine that made up the Godswood of Mormont Keep.
"I didn't tell you to open your eyes," Alysane chided.
"I can't see anything!" Arya complained, it's stupid, she wanted to add, and I feel stupid. She turned her head to see Alysane Mormont didn't look insulted or annoyed at Arya's take on her lesson instead Lady Mormont's second oldest daughter was regarding her with a smile and an amused glint in her eyes.
"You whine just like my boy when he wants some milk," she laughed.
"I do not," Arya protested, face scrunching up in defiance. Only after the words were out did she realize her petulant answer only confirmed what Alysane was referring to in terms of her behavior. "I just have better things to be doing." Frustration roiling in her tummy at how little she had been able to accomplish during the lesson.
"You want instant gratification," Alysane clicked her tongue, "Skin changing is like any other skill, archery, or swordplay, in that it requires some practice to properly wield it. You have the gift to use it, but that isn't enough," she crossed her thick arms over her chest. "If you ever want to control it you need patience and then once you do, you'll be able to slip into your wolf without struggle or effort."
"I'm not getting anywhere," Arya pointed out. The disappointment tasted bitter in her mouth. "It only works when I'm sleeping."
Her wolf dreams, that was what she called them, allowing her to see through the eyes of her direwolf, Nymeria. Then, it was easy, she was Nymeria, she hunted and roamed the dark forest of Bear Island, but when she woke, she was back to Arya. Her attempts to duplicate that success while she was awake were failing miserably.
"I don't want to do this," a cold breeze trickled through the Godswood causing the branches to sway, and her hair to be tousled to fall over her face. Arya pushed her hair to the side, feeling goosepimples form on her arm and the back of her neck.
"You lie."
Arya frowned. "No, I don't." She stood up, "I want to be a warrior not a warg." She brushed the dirt and leaves from her breeches.
"I knew you were a warg the moment I saw you with your direwolf," Alysane walked past her, completely ignoring Arya's previous statement. "And stopping your training won't stop you from being one, it'll just hurt you. We must always embrace what we are. Never shy away from that or you deny yourself a source of strength."
She had moved to stand beside the weirwood tree so that she was facing Arya. "Your direwolf is a part of you," her calloused hands touched the pale bark of the weirwood tree, "the gods blessed you and your family with the direwolves. You've formed bonds with them so strong that not even death can break it."
That got Arya's attention. "What do you mean?"
"A second life," She revealed quietly, "A means for a warg to live on even after death has come for our human bodies," she explained, "living on inside the animal the warg controls. A simpler life where the memories of your past life will slowly fade, until soon only the beast remains," her eyes distant, "A cruel taste of immortality, but still a taste that only wargs can take."
Live on as Nymeria? Arya wondered at the idea that Alysane presented, finding it grim, but even still, she couldn't deny the appeal of it that tugged at her. At the chance it gave her, at the promise of freedom that would be hers.
"My mother told us when we were younger that some of the bears that live on this island are in fact ancestors of ours," Alysane's words broke Arya's thoughts on her potential second life with Nymeria to see amusement flickering in Mormont's eyes at the tales of her youth, "who chose to live a second life."
"What about you?" Arya found herself asking, "Do you have a bear?"
"Of course, I do," Alysane confirmed, "how do you think I got my two cubs?"
Arya scrunched her face in confusion trying to figure out what it was she was referring, but that was interrupted by Alysane's hoarse laughter.
"Best not to have your mind wander in such lewd directions," Alysane winked at her, "Wouldn't want to make your septa blush if you were to repeat these stories to her."
That thought caused Arya to smile before chuckling, unable to relish the image it conjured of a scandalized Septa Mordane, who thought Arya was already unladylike before she went to Bear Island. Wait until she sees me when I return, that only made her smile widen.
"I'll continue," Arya told Alysane who took the decision with a nod of approval. In truth Arya had no intention of quitting for good. She just wanted a break was all.
"Now, let us start over," Alysane advised, pointing to the ground.
Arya bit back the sigh, her legs were sore and she was getting cold, but still obeyed. She sat back onto the wet ground and closed her eyes.
"Breathe," Alysane told her, "Just breathe, calm, steady breaths."
Arya did so, trying to ignore the cold that was nipping at her skin or the dampness that seeped into her clothes.
"That's right," Alysane voiced her approval, "like you're in bed and getting ready for sleep."
Nothing, Arya wanted to growl in frustration, her breathing was calm, but she felt nothing, saw nothing. The soreness in her legs was bothering her as she tried to adjust her sitting position while she shuddered at the cold that was encroaching upon her.
I can escape this, Arya realized, its Nymeria, she thought, if she wanted to be warm she needed to be with her direwolf beneath that thick, warm coat of fur. How can I be sore if I'm running and hunting instead of sitting?
"This connection with Nymeria is new, but you're closeness to her should make it easy to bond with," Alysane's voice sounded distant, as if there was a growing space breaching between them within the Godswood, "Slipping into your direwolf should come as easy and natural to you as sliding into your worn boots."
Slipping into boots, Arya focused on that, forgoing her old approach of hands grasping in darkness, struggling to grip something, she couldn't see. Now, she focused on those words, picturing it in her mind, and controlling her breathing, it's not my boots I'm slipping into but Nymeria. This was her focus, repeating into her mind over and over until it fell in rhythm with her breathing.
Suddenly, in front of her there was a flicker of light, the tingling feeling of triumph flowed through her, but it wasn't enough. She hadn't accomplished anything yet, Arya pushed down on celebrating and instead focused her effort onto the light.
It was like looking in a keyhole, she realized,only seeing glimpses of what lay beyond the light. Alysane's voice grew fainter and fainter, but Arya's determination to see more only grew. She focused more and more on the light out of reach, but it was working, as it got larger until it was all Arya could see.
Out of the darkness and into the sun, she looked around to see it wasn't the Godswood but the forest of Bear Island.
Scents followed sight, dozens of them and she recognized all of them, mud, pine, oak, swirling in the winds, with the scattering of animals-birds, beavers, rabbits, she smelled them all. No longer cold or sore, she sprinted on her four legs, yipping in excitement as she splashed across a stream, startling a pair of birds who took flight, chirping their disapproval after taking to the skies and out of reach from retaliation.
She looked down onto the clear waters of the stream where the ripples were dissipating from where she had run through the water. Until the waters returned allowing her to use it as a mirror and staring back at her wasn't Arya Stark, but Nymeria, dark golden eyes and matted grey fur. Cocking her head to the side, the reflection of Nymeria mirrored the movement, and in that moment of triumph, Arya drew back her head and howled.
A tug followed, rudely pulling Arya away like a fish caught on a line, with a gasp and a blink, Arya found herself once more in the Godswood. She was breathing heavily as if she had just finished an exhausting sparring bout, and her heartbeat was thundering in her chest. Nymeria's howl echoed in the distant, and it made Arya smile even as she tried to regain her breathing and calm the adrenaline she felt coursing through her blood.
"I did it!" Arya exclaimed in between breaths.
"Well done, pup," Alysane patted her shoulder. "The experience will only get easier and in time it'll be you who decides when to end it, but not yet," she offered a hand to pull Arya up which she took, getting to her feet.
"What do you mean?" By returning, Arya was back to being cold with damp feet, and sore legs.
"You're taking your first steps," Alysane told her, "Like a toddler you will stumble by which your time will abruptly end and you'll be pulled back." Alysane gestured for Arya to follow, as the two made their way out of the Godswood. "And like when a child learns to walk without falling you will learn to warg without it ending so suddenly."
Before Arya could respond to how she couldn't wait to get there, a Mormont guard was hastily approaching them.
"Lady Arya," The guard was a woman, short and thick. She had the Mormont Bear emblazoned on her armor. She bowed her head, when they stopped. "Lady Mormont needs to speak to you at once."
"Best you go, Pup," Alysane encouraged, "It isn't wise to make a Mormont woman wait."
"What do you mean?" Arya asked. "What's going on?"
"A raven arrived," the guard answered, "From Winterfell," eyes flickered not meeting Arya's face. "T-that's all I-I know."
In the distance, Nymeria howled, and upon hearing it, Arya didn't feel her earlier happiness. No, this sounded different, it was mournful.
Dark wings, dark words, fear clung to her that was colder than any winter chill. With that Arya ran to find Lady Mormont and prayed the old adage was wrong.
WHACK
Arya's axe hit the practice dummy across the chest, pushing out straw due to the impact of the blow. A thrum went up her arm, but she ignored it, letting out a tired breath. She had gone to the practice yard as soon as Lady Mormont was done with her, and Arya was thankful that it was empty. She didn't want to deal with people right now. She couldn't be polite. Not here, not now, not after what had happened to her father.
She felt tears prickle at her eyes when images of her father being arrested and detained came to her mind's eye. Arya scrubbed them away, head darting left and right to make sure no one saw her, or the tears. Satisfied, that she was still alone, her eyes rested on the empty face of the dummy that was staring at her, but then another face flickered before her. It was the Crown Prince.
The image was enough for Arya to raise her axe and with a cry she hit the dummy again. This time the flat of the blade smashing across the dummy's face. A feeling of satisfaction went through her when the blow from the axe brought the face to swivel, snapping at the base, causing the head to hang limply to the side.
Robb's letter was fresh in her mind. His assurances were what she expected from her older brother who always did his best to look after them. It wasn't all he did, she knew, it was also when he would turn a blind eye towards her more mischievous or martial hobbies. He'd wink at her and smile, and pretend not to notice what it was she was or was about to do.
The memory made her sniffle, but thankfully no tears followed.
"Nymeria," Arya looked to see her direwolf was pawing at one of the fallen practice dummies, but she looked up at the sound of her name.
"We're going to see Robb, and Bran, and Rickon," Arya listed the names quietly, Nymeria perked at them, as if understanding that it meant she'd be seeing her littermates again.
"But not father." Arya bit her lip, pushing away the images of her father in a cell that wormed its way into her mind.
Anger burned in her tummy, and she turned towards the dummy once more, taking a swing but in her anger, it wasn't as poised but the tip of the blade still connected with the dummy's face just below the chin and she had put enough force behind it to knock it clean off. The head fell a few feet from the dummy, rolling on the ground before it stopped.
Nymeria pounced on it, clawing and gnawing at the head and as Arya watched, imagining it was Joffrey's or the Queen's the one's responsible for arresting father, feeling a small smile on her lips at the thought.
Dropping her axe, Arya let out a breath, slumping forward, as her careless swings with the axe were catching up to her. She felt the blisters on her fingers and the tightness in her arm. She put her hands on her knees to regain her breath.
They'll pay for this, she prayed, wanting to attack any lion that hurt her father, that hurt her family.
Robb's letter made no mention of Sansa or Domeric. Were they not in the capital with father? She chewed on her bottom lip, had something happened to them? She found herself wondering, had they tried to run or fight back? Were they killed and the Lannisters trying to cover it up?
Drops of water hit the ground and Arya's vision blurred, causing her to realize they were tears. Her fears about the fate of Sansa and Domeric being the catalyst for the wet streaks she felt run down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hand, trying to push away the idea of something happening to her sister.
Sansa didn't want to go, Arya remembered the day her parents told them. Arya was to head to Bear Island, and Sansa to the capitol. She wouldn't forget the fear that flashed in her sister's eyes or the discomfort that came to her expression at having to go to King's Landing on the behest of the Queen and Prince. The idea of them harming Sansa or worse…
"I'll kill them!" Arya lashed out at the headless dummy with her axe, hitting it again and again, anger and fear churning in her tummy as she struck at it. Her axe cutting up the stitching as straw began pouring out, and piling onto the ground. Arya still didn't stop. She hit it again and again. Before each hit, a flash of the Queen or Joffrey came before her, only intensifying her blows against the dummy. Soon, she was hitting the post that the dummy was tied to. In her blind rage she had cut and sliced the straw opponent until the armor had slid off and only the wooden post remained.
Arya holstered her axe and let out a tired breath. Looking to her side to see Nymeria had stopped chewing on the dummy's head, and was now looking at her with her head tilted to the side.
Suddenly she felt very tired, as if all the energy had been sapped from her body. Her legs swayed beneath her and her arms felt as heavy as stone. Breathing haggardly, Arya fell to the ground, where she rested her elbows on her knees, and her head in her hands.
Feeling foolish, but too tired to move, she sat there on the ground, and found she didn't have the energy to care what any passing servants or guards thought if they were to see her. She wanted to run off to the Godswood or her room. There she could have privacy, close her door, where she could wonder about her father or what had happened to the others. No one would see her tears either.
Sansa, she whispered, protect her and Domeric, hoping she didn't need to be in the Godswood for the Old Gods to hear her prayers, to protect her family. There are no heart trees in the south. The gods are blind down there. A cold voice reminded her, the idea of them being out of the protection from the gods was too much to bear.
More unwelcomed tears filled her eyes. That was when she felt a nudge, followed by a cold press. Arya looked up from where she had buried her face in her hands to see it was Nymeria, whose eyes were shimmering with concern. She licked Arya's tear stained cheeks. She flung her arms around her direwolf, holding her close, but no tears followed.
I am Arya Stark, she remembered, A direwolf of Winterfell, she couldn't forget who she was. Even after everything that was happening to her family. She was still a Stark. She let go of Nymeria and pushed herself to her feet, looking to see if anyone had been watching. It was still empty.
"Come, Nymeria," She beckoned her direwolf to follow her out of the training yard. "We're going home."
"You think we'll still continue our training?"
"I don't know," Arya muttered, the last thing she was thinking about was training. She didn't want to train with practice swords against dummies. She wanted to fight. She wanted to punish those who had attacked her family.
It had been only a few days since Arya received a letter from Robb. He was calling on all the banners of the North to rally to Winterfell where he planned on marching them south.
If anyone can save father its Robb, Arya just knew it. We'll be together again, I promise, remembering the last words her oldest brother had told her before she left for Bear Island. Now, here she was returning, but it wasn't supposed to be like this. It was all wrong.
She sat in her chambers packed and ready to return to Winterfell. Her future at Bear Island and her training with Dacey in doubt due to the circumstances that had arisen in the south.
"Don't worry, Arya," Lyanna seemed to sense her distracted thoughts, "They'll pay for this injustice towards your family." The youngest Mormont girl vowed in a solemn tone.
"Aye," Jorelle Mormont entered the room, making her way over towards the bed, sitting at the end of it. "Mother sent me to tell you we're leaving in the morning."
"Good," Arya hated the waiting. Her family was in trouble, and here she was stuck at Bear Island unable to do anything to help them. She had wanted to leave as soon as she got her letter from her brother, but Lady Mormont dismissed that option. Informing her that it took time to raise the levies in Bear Island and to gather supplies and the boats needed to ferry their forces across the water.
"You have all your dresses packed, Jory?" Lyanna teased.
Lady Mormont had decided to take Jorelle and Lyanna with her to Winterfell. Believing it an opportune time for her daughter to meet and interact with her future husband, Cley Cerwyn. When Lyanna had found out that her sister was going, she pleaded to come to, wanting to be there for Arya and her sister, Maege Mormont had relented.
Arya was touched by her friend's insistence to stay together. She found the two Mormont sisters a welcomed reprieve these last few days. Arya knew she was poor company to be with being prickly and blunt, and most of the time shunning interactions when she could, but that hadn't stopped Jory and Lyanna from trying to be with her. Arya was grateful that she'd have their company to rely on when they were at Winterfell.
"Yes," Jory answered, indifferent to her sister's jape, "As well as my knives and my favorite bow, and two quivers worth of arrows."
Lyanna snickered. "I want to see your betrothed's face when he opens your trunk to see that."
Jory sent her sister an innocent look. "I hope he doesn't mind that I brought more knives then dresses." There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
"House Cerwyn's words are honed and ready," Lyanna pointed out with a smirk.
Jory nodded, "Exactly," which led to the two sisters giggling.
Arya watched them with a distant smile. Seeing them tease and interact made the pang of homesickness that she felt in her tummy worsen. Soon, I'll be with Bran and Rickon, reminding herself to help stave off the wistfulness of home.
"The lions are fools if they thought the north wouldn't answer this insult," Lyanna's voice broke through Arya's reflection of home and family, apparently the sisters had stopped in their mirthfulness and had begun talking about the news in the south.
Jon's with a lion, Last, Arya heard of Jon was him departing Winterfell with the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. Where was he now? And with whom? Fear coiled tightly in her tummy at the thought of not knowing where Jon was or worse if he was a prisoner of the Lannisters.
No, if they had Jon, Robb would've told her, Arya reasoned, refusing to believe that Jon was hurt or a prisoner. He's just a bastard, a cold voice whispered to her mind, the lions wouldn't think twice of hurting him or worse...
He's my brother, Arya snapped back, a Stark just like me.
Nymeria raised her head from where she had been sleeping by the hearth in the room where glowing embers provided light and warmth inside Arya's chambers. Arya pushed herself off the bed going to sit on the ground beside her beloved direwolf. Nymeria welcomed her with a flick of her tail and a lick to her cheek before settling her large head on Arya's lap.
The wolves are scattered, she looked down on her direwolf, beginning to scratch under her ear which Nymeria always enjoyed. Father's in a cell, and no one knows where Sansa or Jon or Domeric are. They're all alone, Arya realized, a cold finger of trepidation touched her spine, the lone wolf dies…
"Arya?"
"Hmm?" She blinked, shaken from her dark thoughts to see the two Mormont sisters looking down at her with some concern, since she had been silent for most if not all their conversation. "I'm fine," she lied. But what about my family?
Where are they? Are they safe? Has something happened to them?
"No, you're not," Jorelle cut through Arya's lie without hesitation.
Arya frowned, but she didn't bother to reply. She didn't want to talk about. She didn't want to voice her fears, her concerns. Hearing them out loud would only give them merit.
"We're friends, Arya," Lyanna moved off of the bed before carefully making her way over to where Arya and Nymeria were, the direwolf watching her with mild interest. "We may not be wolves, but we still care for you." She sat on the other side of Arya, "And we're with you."
"Aye," Jory happily agreed.
"Thanks," Arya muttered, finding her throat thick and dry. Looking at the two Mormont sisters who nodded and smiled towards her in encouragement. "I couldn't ask for better ones."
A/N: There is my poor attempt at trying to explore/explain skinchanging 101. Just my interpretation at how someone could potentially struggle with it in the beginning especially if they haven't come to grips with it. As well as showing how it could be different/more difficult when you're awake and not properly trained.
Cat kidnapping Tyrion hasn't made it to Bear Island. It's isolated from the rest of Westeros and the north, so I don't think it's a stretch to have the news of that incident be slow in reaching them. As well as Robb not wanting to mention in it in his letter to Arya.
I'm glad to hear people enjoyed the Maester perspective since he has at least two more planned chapters in this story.
Leave a review to feed the hungry muse. It certainly worked with this chapter.
Until next time,
-Spectre4hire