Mid December, 298 AC - Mid January, 299 AC
"You're lucky I'm the one who saw you," Bel said as Arya wolfed down day old bread and roasted fish.
The door was locked and barred, the window shut, and Bel kept her voice low. The food she had requested for herself, yelling for Jess until it was brought.
Arya had eyed the food with suspicion, her hand clenched on Needle.
"Even if you can kill me," said Bel, one eyebrow raised, "there's an entire house of women below. Would you kill us all?"
Arya couldn't fight all of them, and she couldn't jump out the window, so she sat and began eating. Whatever this woman wanted, Arya would need her strength.
The moment she sat, Bel's hand moved like a flash, and a dagger hit the wooden door with a thunk where Arya's head had been. Arya stared at her open mouthed. She hadn't even seen Bel draw the dagger.
"Dornish women learn to defend ourselves," Bel explained. "Not that northern women don't- but it's far more common for us. Nymeria's people were warriors, men and women both. A sword is no good if you're dead before you can draw it, youngling."
As Arya ate, Bel talked. Her face was as pretty as her voice, with high cheekbones and dimples a lady would envy. Bel came from a family of musicians, and they had followed Princess Elia Nymeros Martell north when she came to wed Rhaegar.
"She had me sing for her a few times," Bel said, her eyes staring into the distance. "Dornish music is rare north of the marches. Nobles paid for the novelty, and to show courtesy to the new princess. And I was very good at playing the qithara."
Her eyes turned hard.
"Princess Elia and her babes were not the only victims of the sack. Lannister men ran through the city, slaughtering and raping at will. As if we supported the Mad King! The city was closed, we could not leave." Bel took a long drink from the tankard Jess had brought with the food.
"My daggers kept me safe, but a Lannister man broke half my fingers before I killed him, and I lost my little sister in the panic. I couldn't find her for three days. By then her body was..." Bel trailed off, her dark eyes sad.
"How did you know me?" Arya asked. Whatever had given her away, it must not happen again. There were goldcloaks everywhere. Bel laughed, as though she'd set aside her grief somewhere deep within her.
"Your father came here not long ago. I've never seen a man so stiff and uncomfortable in a whorehouse. I'm surprised Littlefinger got him through the door- Jess said the Hand slammed him against a wall, knife to his throat, until a man came out to fetch Lord Eddard. Pity he didn't finish Littlefinger off."
Arya tilted her head, confused.
"But you work for Littlefinger," she said slowly. "And why would my father come here?" Bel shook her head.
"I work for the women here. Littlefinger is a bitter drink that must be sipped- he bought the brothel out from under me when I was in debt." She spat on the floor.
"I'd never work for a man that kisses the Lannisters' arses if I had a choice about it. Your father was here to meet a lady in secret- I caught a glimpse of her. Long red hair and a northern gown, though her speech was of the riverlands."
Mother? When was mother in King's Landing?
"Now, as to how I knew you- first, you've got the same face as your father, second, you've got a northern accent, and third, the goldcloaks have been telling all and sundry how many gold dragons the crown will pay for the return of Stark's lost daughter."
Arya leaped from the chair, hand on her sword. The cats hissed at her feet. It was a trap, she was going to be sold to the goldcloaks.
"Oh, sit down," Bel said, irritated. She hadn't twitched a muscle. "Use your head. Aren't nobles supposed to have all that learning that makes you fit to rule us poor common folk?" Arya frowned, confused.
"Lannister men killed my sister and made it so I could never play qithara again. I'd not sell them one of those cats, let alone a child."
Arya sat back down, scowling. She wasn't stupid, she wasn't, but it was hard to think when she was so scared. Look with your eyes, Syrio had told her. For the first time Arya noticed three of the fingers on Bel's left hand were crooked, as though they'd healed wrong.
"Where are my friends?" Arya demanded, using her sleeve to wipe the grease from off her mouth. The sooner she got them, the sooner she could leave. She could worry later about how to hide them and feed them.
"JESS!" Bel shouted.
"What?" Jess yelled from down the hall. Her voice was exasperated yet fond. It reminded Arya of two married cooks at Winterfell who were always bickering back and forth.
"The boy wants to see his cousin- bring that new girl with the long brown hair, and the quiet one," Bel ordered.
Arya supposed Bel ran this place, since Baelish couldn't be here when he was busy at Court. Busy betraying father and kissing up to Lannisters. She finished the bread, and shared the remaining fish with Shadow and Softpaws. They'd more than earned it. If she ever got home, they'd eat fresh fish every day for the rest of their lives.
"Getting them out of here is going to be hard," Bel said as they waited. "There's goldcloaks everywhere, and most of the gates are closed. Perhaps a ferry..."
The door creaked open. Jeyne was in her shift, her face wan, her arms red up to the elbow. Behind her stood Merissa, her shift and arms the same, but her gaze steadier than Arya had ever seen. Jeyne's brown eyes went wide with fear as she saw Arya.
"It's alright, child," Bel said softly, getting up and wrapping a plump arm around Jeyne. "I know who she is, and I'll not tell anyone."
Jeyne burst into tears.
By the time Jeyne stopped sobbing, Bel and Merissa had told Arya all that had befallen the girls since Baelish had taken them.
"Baelish and a few guards took us from the tower," Merissa said, her voice soft. "He told Jeyne he'd take her to her father-" Merissa looked down. She knew he was lying, even if Jeyne didn't. "We were locked in his chambers for a few hours while he questioned us, then he had men bring us here."
"Baelish's men told us to keep them safely hidden, that they were to be trained before we sold their maidenheads," Bel said, her mouth twisted with disgust. "As if whores couldn't recognize a girl that's been forced, and recently too. Merissa wouldn't speak for days, until Jess took her as a bedmaid."
Arya stiffened, and her hand went to her sword. Bel rapped her on the wrist.
"What did I tell you? Listen, you bloodthirsty child."
"She talked to me and brushed my hair and held me when we slept," Merissa said, her light brown eyes soft.
"Jess knew what she'd been through, and she's a soft spot for children," Bel said briskly. "She listened when Merissa finally talked, and didn't shame her or weep all over her."
Arya ducked her head, feeling guilty. Sansa thought that letting Merissa be quiet was the right thing, that gentle treatment and going North would bring her out of her shell. Having no better ideas of her own, Arya had gone along with it. Had they failed her?
"And don't blame yourself, missy," Bel said, scowling. "It was a kind thing your sister did, taking her under her wing. Kinder than most nobles, who treat smallfolk like dumb cattle."
"But... they're to be trained?" Arya said. She didn't know what that meant, but it sounded very bad, if selling maidenheads was part of it. Bel's mouth twisted again.
"I've had them scrubbing pots and helping the cooks, keeping them out of sight. I should be able to spare them for another month or so before Baelish gets suspicious." Merissa nodded, wrapping a skinny arm around Jeyne's shoulders. Bel stood, her eyes blazing with fury as she paced.
"I've told that man once, I've told him a thousand times, girls can't do this work until they're at least a few years past flowering. It wrecks their hips. Most girls who sell that young are desperate or forced, and them that buy them are a bad lot." She spat on the floor again. Arya wondered if her rushes were half spit.
"I'd sooner knife a childfucker than have them in here. But Lord Baelish, oh no, he thinks a brothel should cater to every taste, the sly lickspittle. He thinks no one knows about his tastes, but whores talk. He likes them young and redheaded."
Like Sansa. Arya's belly swooped and she gagged, forcing herself not the vomit up the best meal she'd had in weeks. The bile stung as she swallowed it down.
"Why don't you just kill him?" Arya demanded. Bel stared at her for a moment, then laughed bitterly.
"Oh, I've dreamt of it. But I'll not risk my girls if the Lannisters decide we're all to blame for the loss of their pet. Now, getting you three out, on the other hand... that might be
possible."
Arya left the brothel with a skip in her step, Softpaws trailing behind her. When they reached the end of the street, Wobble, Rattail, and Patches joined them, and Softpaws trotted down a side alley, heading back to the Red Keep.
Softpaws couldn't follow most of what other humans said, so Arya had given her a simple message for Sansa. Jeyne and Merissa were found, and the whores would help them escape.
"Leave the planning to me," Bel had said, handing Arya a few coppers. "And don't come back until I send for you. Gods help you if Baelish sees you here. Can those cats find you?"
Arya had nodded, grateful that she could explain things to Shadow without speaking aloud. Shadow agreed to stay put until Bel sent him for Arya, and Arya left him in Jeyne and Merissa's care. To Arya's relief, Bel didn't ask any nosy questions. Cats were known for their sense of smell, and some were as faithful as dogs. The fewer people that knew Arya could talk to cats, the better.
Jeyne had finally spoken toward the end, asking after Sansa and thanking Arya for finding them. Arya claimed Sansa was fine, she'd heard some lady in the street mention Stark's pretty daughter at Court. Bel raised an eyebrow, but Jeyne believed her. That was all that mattered.
Arya's stomach rumbled as she dug into her bowl of brown. Trading pigeons for brown was so much easier with the cats' help, even with Shadow gone. She had coppers now, from Bel and from the cats' clever thieving, even a few silver stags, but they weren't for feeding herself. No, the coins must stay safe and unspent in the purse that rested against her chest.
One day, Arya had seen a skinny man with an odd lump under his shirt, a leather cord hanging from his neck. She'd had Rattail crawl up a nearby post for hitching horses, then leap onto the man's shoulders, spitting like mad. He was so frantic to get the yowling cat off of him that he didn't realize she'd cut the cord with her claws. While he stalked away swearing, Rattail picked up the purse in her mouth and brought it to Arya.
The purse held eight silver stags and ten coppers. Arya had tied a knot in the cord and tucked the necklace under her shirt. It held all her coins now, keeping them out of sight. She'd need coppers and silver to take Jeyne and Merissa north. Arya patted the purse, checking that it was still there more out of habit than concern.
She hoped Softpaws would come back soon. It had been several weeks since she'd returned bearing Sansa in her skin. They'd rejoiced over Jeyne and Merissa's safety, however temporary, and shared all that each of them had learned. When they were done, Sansa had let out a great sigh.
I slept for two days after I came the first time, Sansa said as Softpaws kneaded Arya's leg. I barely managed to get back to my room before I collapsed. I don't think Grand Maester Pycelle believed me when I said I'd had swooning spells before as a child. If I fall asleep for two days again this time...
Arya had begged her not to leave her alone, but Sansa would not change her mind. The Queen was sweet as poison and all the servants were her spies.
With a sigh Arya finished her bowl of brown. She was trying to decide whether to catch more pigeons or wash herself in the river when far across the city, bells began to ring.
Arya clung to the statue's feet, frantic with fear. The crowd roared around her, like the entire city was made of lions. Father looked gaunt and thin behind the High Septon's marble pulpit, his brown hair longer than Arya had ever seen it. The two goldcloaks at his sides seemed to be holding him up- he lacked the strength to stand. All around the crowd was talking, their voices anxious.
"What've they done-"
"-treated the folk of Sherrer fair."
"Bah, you believe that cousin o' yours? Just 'cause he works in t' Red Keep-"
"-killed six men for rape during the sack," a woman said. "Not Lannister men, Stark men. Beheaded 'em wit' his own sword. I never heard of no Lannister men punished for rape."
Joffrey stood in front of the pulpit, a cluster of high lords around him. A golden crown was on his head, his queen mother beside him. Oh please, Arya begged, scanning the group around Joffrey.
There- there was Sansa, dressed in sky blue silk. Her hair was curled and she wore silver bracelets, but something was wrong with her smile. It was stiff, like she'd been dipped in plaster. Suddenly her eyes were on Arya. For a long moment they stared at each other. Beneath the smile Sansa was terrified.
Sansa looked away, fixing her eyes on Lord Eddard. The bells had stopped and he was trying to speak.
"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King," he said, "and I come
before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men."
On the steps below Sansa flinched, her teeth clamped tight over her lip. Red blood trickled down onto her pale chin.
"I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert," Father shouted above the crowd. "I swore to defend and protect him and his heirs, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose Prince Joffrey and seize the throne for Stannis Baratheon."
Sansa was frowning, her eyes confused.
"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
Arya couldn't breathe. Stones flew out of the crowd, striking her father and several of the goldcloaks. Why was father swearing by the new gods? Arya wondered as her plinth rocked from the fury of the surging crowd.
The High Septon said something, and Joffrey stepped forward, a smirk upon his lips.
"So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"
The crowd was screaming, louder than anything Arya had ever heard, yet Sansa's voice pierced through the chaos. She fell to her knees, her entire body shaking, a terrible, high shriek echoing off the walls of the Great Sept. The shriek became a scream, then a howl that raised every hair on Arya's neck.
Yet none of the lords looked at her, they looked at Joffrey, who was surrounded by advisors, Varys waving his arms, the queen saying something in Joffrey's ear, the High Septon clutching Joffrey's cape.
Ser Ilyn Payne climbed the steps of the pulpit, and Sansa's howl ceased as though her throat had been cut. Sansa was staring at Lord Eddard. Father was smiling sadly, his mouth moving. Arya stared at Father and suddenly he looked back at her. He still wore the sad smile, as though he knew what was about to happen.
Arya was off the pedestal and in the crowd before she could stop to think, desperately trying to get to her Father. An arm flew out of the crush, hands clenching her arm in a tight grip, pressing her face against black cloth that smelt of sour wine. She knew that terrible smell, it was the black brother who had visited father.
"Don't look, boy," Yoren's thick voice snarled. Arya struggled, and his arms tightened. No, no, she had to get to father, she had to.
Suddenly the crowd went silent, the only sound Arya's heartbeat pounding in her ears.
"They're done here." Yoren growled. The crowd was streaming away, as though leaving a tourney or a fair, chattering and gossiping as if the sun still shined.
"You'll be coming with me, and you'll be keeping your mouth shut."
When Yoren released her Arya swayed for a moment, her legs like jelly. Yoren strode across the plaza, picked something up, and came back. He pressed Needle into Arya's numb fingers- she'd dropped it in the crowd, too frantic to notice or care. In a daze Arya followed Yoren from the plaza. He had just shoved her through a doorway when Arya realized she had to go back.
"No!" She screamed, turning and darting for the door.
Arya couldn't leave Sansa all alone, she was her sworn shield, she had to protect her, she promised, she had to free Jeyne and Merissa- something hit the back of her head, and the world went dark.