Arya
"If my mother could see me now she'd die. I just know it."
Arya was pacing up and down the hall, which was rather easy for her considering she could just walk right through any table or chair that got in her way. Toad, who was lounging on a pillar (literally... he was sticking to the pillar and was 3 feet up in the air) glanced down at her and frowned. "Because of the whole age-up thing?"
"No... well yes, but that wasn't what I was originally thinking."
"Ah. Then its the current company that you keep." He gestured at himself.
Arya rolled her eyes at that. "Yes but with mother if I am not sitting with prissy noblewomen sewing and eating cream puffs then I'm in bad company."
"Sabertooth knits."
Arya snickered at that.
"What's so funny?" the massive bestial man in question asked, entering the main hall. Rather than his normal leathers and furs he was dressed in loose, more elegant fabrics done in the black and red. Toad was dressed in similar garb, though he lacked the long robe-like coat Sabertooth had donned, and looked far more at ease in his garments than Sabertooth did. In Arya's opinion it was utterly wrong to put him in such an outfit; like dying a direwolf's fur pink.
"For some reason you knitting amuses Shadowcat," Toad answered.
Rather than pound him like Arya expected him to Sabertooth merely cocked an eyebrow. "It does?"
"...seriously?" Arya said in startled shock.
"Seriously what?" Sabertooth grunted as he walked over to a table and snagged a bottle of wine and drained a good quarter of it in a single gulp.
"You knit."
"Of course," Sabertooth replied. Arya waited for the smirk, the cocky laugh, anything... but he just stared at her.
"...fuck me."
"No thanks," Sabertooth said, NOW providing her with a smirk. "I prefer my women be strong enough to handle my cock. I'd split you in half and then I'd have to deal with the mess."
Arya's face screwed up in disgust at the thought of her being anywhere around a naked Sabertooth. It was just… wrong. Like sleeping with Uncle Benjen. "You fucking knit."
"Yeah. What's the problem?"
"But that's something old women do!" Arya exclaimed.
Sabertooth huffed. "I doubt the decrepit old bitches you know knit what I did."
"Cock cozies," Toad whispered, Arya's face puckering at the mere thought.
"Besides, it has its uses." Sabetooth wiggled his fingers. "Keeps my hands limber and quick… yeah, I usually enjoy just tearing the heads off bastards but sometimes it is fine to go the slow route… skin them alive and watch as they screech and scream. Useful if I need some information."
"Is this really a conversation we should be having now?" Lady Deathstrike said, making her presence known as she joined them. One of the first new members of the Brotherhood that Arya had met upon arriving in Braavos, the warrioress from Yi Ti should have been someone Arya idolized. Graceful, powerful, she was like all the grand female fighters that Arya had begged Old Nan to tell her about back in Winterfell. The problem was that the woman was like all those warriors… with Sansa's 'noblier than thou' attitude. She looked down on everyone save Magneto and that was mostly because she knew in a straight up fight he would utterly destroy her. But she'd sneered at Arya as being young and useless, declared Gendry yet another mindless brute, and even scoffed at Mystique for believing she deserved to be ranked high among the Brotherhood.
Arya honestly didn't know why they'd let her live.
"And what would you prefer us to discuss, oh dear lady?" Sabertooth said sarcastically. He walked around the tall thin woman, raising his hand and running a clawed finger along the tips of her short dyed-red hair. "Beauty regiments? Going to tell us how you glob on all that makeup to hide your wrinkles?"
"Anything would be better than your useless chatter!" Lady Deathstroke snarled, batting his hand away and raising her arm up. Rather than normal fingers her hands ended sharp metallic points that she could extend into long freakish claws that were nearly the length of her arms. They could bend and twitch just like fingers; Arya swore Lady Deathstrike sometimes went around with her fingers extended fully just to gross her out. "Or I will show you what I can do with MY claws!"
"Oh please, slant-eyes, " Sabertooth snarled, "try it. I've been itching for some bloodletting-"
Two thick, meaty hands dropped down, one of each of their shoulders, and yanked the two feuding warriors apart. "And I have been itching for some food and this party is supposed to be loaded with it." The new arrival made everyone else in the room look small, not just in height but in girth as well. Nearly 9 feet tall and just as wide, 'Blob' was the largest man Arya had ever seen and one of the few that could actually manhandle Lady Deathstrike and Sabertooth and not end up losing a hand for it… mostly because his flesh was so bouncy that their blows just repelled back at them. "And you know how Magneto is. If you two fight he might decide to keep you two here. And if you have to stay here he'll need to assign you a babysitter. And who is he going to find that can keep you apart? Me." He gave them both a shove. "You keep me from the food and I might forget that human isn't on the menu!" With that he moved over to Arya, surprisingly agile and graceful for a man of his bulk, and his scowl turned to a polite smile. "Hello Shadowcat. What were you talking about that got these two fighting?"
"Why do you assume it was my fault?" Arya asked playfully.
"Because I can tell the troublemakers."
"We're all troublemakers!" Toad pointed out.
"She's the worst."
Arya snorted as Sabertooth and Lady Deathstrike stopped glowering at each other to turn and nod in agreement.
"She said that he mother would die if she could see her, Toad said, hopping down from the pillar. "Still haven't found out why."
"Because I'm wearing this," Arya said, pulling at the long sleek black dress she was wearing. It was in the Braavosi style, meaning it was sleeveless and flowed like water even if she shifted just a touch. It had been cut to just hint at her grown form, something Arya was relieved for as she still wasn't quite comfortable in her new adult body. If she'd had to dress in the style of Qarth, with a breast exposed, she would have begun ripping out hearts. Even looking at her naked body in a mirror was off-putting to her as it didn't feel like her.
"She'd hate it?" Toad asked.
Lady Deathstrike scoffed at that. "Then your mother is a fool. You aren't much, Shadowcat, but in that dress you are a beauty that is almost worthy of standing in our house."
"That's… probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Arya admitted.
"No way your mama would be horrified to see you in that dress," Blob said, walking up to her and give her a, for him, gentle pat on the back; that meant into only sent Arya stumbling forward a few steps. "You're as pretty as a sunset, kitty cat."
"Thanks Duke," Arya said with a smile. Even though he had told her to call him 'Blob' she just couldn't, as it seemed utterly rude and mean and she liked spending time with Duke. He was fun and told great stories and they'd work together to steal Mystique's biscuits. "And its more that I hate wearing dresses. Prefer riding clothing."
"Smart girl," Sabertooth stated, sitting down on a bench and snagging the wine bottle he'd started on already. "If it ain't practical why bother with it?"
"Because one must look their best," Lady Deathstrike stated with a snobby tint to her words.
"Oh? And that's why you always wear frocks?" Toad needled her. For someone who demanded she be addressed as 'Lady' Deathstrike she tended to wear trousers, men's shirts, and vests rather than dresses and slippers.
"What's wrong with dresses?" Toad asked.
"I just don't like them," Arya complained. "I can't run around in them or fight in them and if you get them dirty everyone pitching a fit. And I never look good in them. Everyone knows it!" She gestured at herself only to see the looks she was getting from everyone. "Okay, I USED to not look good in them. But I-"
"I have ta agree, cher," a deep voice purred from the shadows and Arya fought back a shudder… though whether that shudder was of disgust or pleasure even she couldn't be sure. All she knew was the heavily accented voice always made the blood rush to her cheeks and her legs to shiver so that she felt like the maids from the tales Sansa loved who blushed and stammered at the sight of a dashing knight.
Pushing away from the shadows he'd been lurking in the man who claimed to be the son of a fiery Stony Dornish woman and an 'Arrogant Bastard from the Neck' walked over to her with a smirk on his lean features. No… not walked. Oozed. Slowly but with utter fluidity, every motion thought out carefully and delivered with utter control. His reddish brown hair rose up from his head by a good inch or two before coming back down again in a series of utterly wild points, as if even it wanted to get in on showing off. He wore a long black coat over thin dark steel plate and a magenta shirt that was so tight Arya swore she could see every ab muscle along the man's sculpted chest. A short metal rod made of Valyrian steel was slung onto his back and Arya knew from watching him train that with a flick of his wrist he could make the rod extended to nearly 6 feet in length. In his hands he held a deck of playing cards, though unlike the merchants in Braavos she'd never seen him actually use them for entertainment in the form of a casual game. No, the Swamp Rat used those cards for something decidedly more dangerous.
But most striking were his eyes: utterly black save for red pupils, glowing with pent up energy promising to be released the moment he was ready and not a second more.
"Gambit," she said in greeting, hoping her voice didn't actually sound as squeaky as it did to her own ears.
"Gambit don't see why ya be thinkin' ya don't look good in that dress," he said with an easy going smirk. "He thinks it does well enough for ya. Hides just the right amount… because sometimes it is all the better to have a hint rather than see it all. Though," he chuckled, "it don't hurt none ta show off now and then-" Gambit took a step closer only to stop when Toad leapt into his path. "Yes?"
"Leave her alone," Toad said coolly.
"Gambit just payin' her a compliment."
"You're making her nervous," Toad stated.
"Oh?" he said, amused. "Is that what is happenin' ta ya, cher?"
"For fuck's sake, Remy, she's still a child!" Duke declared in disgust. "She might look like an adult but she has the mind of a 10 year old!"
"Hey!" Arya complained.
Lady Deathstrike rolled her eyes. "Did you and did you not ask us about Queen Tooth three weeks ago?"
"…you can make your fingers super long! Queen Tooth could be real!"
Gambit chuckled at that and Arya turned back towards him, feeling yet another shudder rip through her body as he lazily looked her up and down. "They're right though, sweet kitty. Ya might look like a woman grown, with all the curves ta make a man weep, but ya don't know how ta use them. Need a teacher-"
Sabertooth stood up and bared his fangs. "That's enough. Flirt with the whores that coo at you from the street corner. The half-pint is off limits."
Gambit quickly threw up his hands when Lady Deathstrike, Toad, and Blob joined in taking a step towards him. "Ol' Gambit just bein' friendly. He can't help it if it comes off as an'thin' more than that! It's his mama's hot blood; ya know how we Dornish get!"
"I'll fucking spill that hot blood if you try and force yourself on her-" Lady Deathstrike growled.
"You're also of the North, aren't you?" Arya asked, moving past the others and focusing her attention now on the black-eyed charmer. "From the Neck. House Reed controls the Neck and I imagine they were your Lords… or the liege lord of your lord. Am I right?"
"Ya know your houses, petite," Gambit stated.
"I should." Even though he had a nearly a foot on her Arya still stared him down and felt, in that moment, that she was a giant looking down a very small man. "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. My father is now the King in the North. That makes me a princess. And you will respect me as such."
"Some would say that ol Gambit be givin' ya all the respect ya deserve, cher," Gambit teased.
"Not me."
"Curious that ya claim to be a princess when ya side with Magneto. Ya know he won't stand for your father being king when he wants all of Westeros, no?"
"Of course," Arya admitted. "But the Dornish were princes even after they joined the Seven Kingdoms… who is to say that I won't remain a princess?" She took a step closer before suddenly phasing her hand into his chest. "So show a little respect."
Gambit looked down before holding out his hands in surrender, a smile still on his face. "Let it never be said that Gambit don't know when ta throw in the towel. But don't hold it against 'im if he slips now and then. Sometimes he can't control his own charm."
"Learn to," Arya said, yanking her hand out and flashing her own smirk before spinning on her heels and walking away.
"There might be hope for you yet," Lady Deathstrike said in approval; Sabertooth just chuckled and patted her on the shoulder as she passed while Toad and Blob were more vocal in their cheers. For his part Gambit merely walked over and sat down with Sabertooth, acting as if nothing had happened.
'But then again, that's life with the Brotherhood,' she thought as she took her own seat, waving off Toad as he offered to snag her some wine; she'd have to drink at the party and she hated the taste of the stuff and even before her mutation had been activated no one in her family could get drunk. Instead Toad tossed the bottle over to Gambit, who caught it without even looking and popped the cork off by bopping it against the table. 'We fight and want to kill each other and then sit down and act like nothing happened.'
It had totally thrown Gendry off when he'd first arrived at their new home, the House of Black and White, to see people snarling and ready to tear out each other's throats (quite literally when it came to their group) only to an hour later happily sit next to each other and enjoy a meal. He'd commented as much to Arya only for her and Sabertooth to team up in ribbing him, much to his confusion when he clearly remembered their fights on the ship. But for Arya it was a simple thing: they were a family. A strange, multigenerational family, but a family none the less. There were some she preferred more than others, like Toad and Blob, and some she barely could stand like Lady Deathstrike, but she knew that each of them had her back and in turn she would have theirs. If suddenly the doors to the Main Hall burst open and some scorned lover or man who held Gambit's debts burst in (both quite likely, Arya thought with a mental chuckle) she knew she'd be the first to protect him. They were family… the Brotherhood. Gendry didn't get that yet.
'But I do,' Arya thought. 'Its like me and Bran or Robb or Jon.' She felt a small sliver of guilt at not including Sansa in that listing but even thought she had come to miss her sister after her death she wasn't so nostalgic that she forgot all the bad times with her; Sansa had often allowed her friends to torment Arya and make her life horrid in Winterfell, taking what small victories she might have had towards behaving as others wanted her to and ripping them away. And her lies that had cost them both their direwolves… Arya would never forgive her for that, even with Sansa cold and gone. She couldn't honestly say if her sister would protect her if a threat came tearing at her. But her brothers? Oh, Arya knew they would help her even if they had the most bitter of feuds moments earlier.
"What are you smiling about, cher?" Gambit asked.
"My brothers," Arya stated. "Thinking about them."
"Ah," Gambit said, turning on the bench to face her. "You talk ta Magneto about'em?"
"I have," Arya said. "They are off limits."
"Even if they won't bend the knee?" Lady Deathstrike asked.
"I'll make them bend," Arya informed them. That had been a touchy subject, her family. She had demanded that in exchange for her fully committing to help the Brotherhood Magneto had to swear that her family would be protected when they finally returned to Westeros. That nothing would happen to any of them. Magneto had questioned her loyalty to that family when she had a new one but Arya had pointed out that when a woman married into another house she didn't burn her father's home to the ground. Plenty of families had quartered their sigil with the emblems of their father and their mother. Magneto had accepted that finally but Arya knew there were some in the Brotherhood that would never trust anyone that wasn't one of them. Which was fine… so long as the Starks lived.
"None of us doubt that," Magneto said, making in presence known. Mystique was, as always, at his side, and Gendry followed shortly behind with another member of the Brotherhood, a younger man with long stringy black hair named Avalanche. Gendry looked nearly as uncomfortable as Sabertooth in his more regal and formal clothing but with him Arya found it rather appealing. The cut of the shirt, the way the jacket draped over his shoulders, the tightness of the pants that let her-
Blob tapped the back of her hand. "You were staring."
"And drooling," Toad said, offering her a napkin. She glowered at him, smacking the fabric away, and focused on Magneto, who was having a quiet word with Lady Deathstrike while Gendry and Avalanche moved to join her, Toad, and Blob.
"I don't understand why we even need to go to this party," Gendry complained. "It isn't even the main party."
"It's the party to explain what is actually going to happen at the main party," Toad commented.
"…that makes no sense!"
Arya had to agree with Gendry. They'd never done anything like that in Winterfell. Oh, her mother would plan out a feast (never a party… plump southerners had 'parties'; Northerners had feasts) weeks in advance but there was no feast to discuss the feast. No party to plan out the party. But she had come to realize during her time away from Winterfell that the Braavosi would find any reason they could to celebrate. It seemed that nearly every night there was some dinner they were being invited too.
"Why are you complaining?" Blob asked with a smirk. "There is going to be great food there! A lot better than the slop we get here!"
"Considering where I grew up we had the Bowl of Brown?" Gendry said. "Everything is the finest meal compared to that."
"Do… do I even want to know?" Avalanche asked. He was from the wastes outside of Pentos and it was common for him to get confused by their comments about Westeros, for he had lived a sheltered life.
"Thick stew," Gendry stated. "Simmered for years."
"Years?" Avalanche asked. "You're joking."
"Not at all. They keep it warm night after night and when it begins to get low they pour in more water, add more barley and vegetables and meat-"
"Heh, don't sound that bad at all!" Blob declared.
"You don't want to guess where the meat came from," Gendry finished and it took a moment before all of them shuddered in disgust; even Duke, with his jests about eating Sabertooth and Lady Deathstrike, would have never gone so far as to consume a person. The idea that Gendry may have done that out of desperation… "Besides, fine food and feasts lose their appeal after a while."
"Oh yeah," Avalanche said with a smirk. "I keep forgetting that while the rest of us are stuck here you two keep getting to go out and rub elbows with the elite."
"You're welcome to take our places," Arya hissed much like her feline namesake. "You only focus on the food or the palaces you can sit in. Don't remember that most of it is us being paraded out for people to gawk at." Gendry nodded, reaching over and patting her on the shoulder in solidarity.
There were so many things Arya loved about being part of the Brotherhood. The new friends that she had made. Getting to see one of the greatest of the Free Cities when just a year ago her highest hope had been that her father wouldn't marry her off to a bannerman too soon as she knew once she was sent off to a keep she wouldn't get to leave. The training that was already seeing her become on the deadliest warriors in the world.
But with all those great things came one solid, horrible, blood boiling thing: being made into an object of interest.
Arya understood that she was beautiful now. Her father had always promised that she would grow into her looks and staring at her reflection and seeing the woman she'd become she had to admit he was right. The mousy dark hair that had never wanted to stay in a bun or pigtails had become a lush flowing mane. Her long horse-like face had filled out in the right spots while also giving her high cheekbones and sharp features. While not tall at all she had shot up to a decent height and while her breasts were modest her hips had flared out and her ass had swelled to eye-catching proportions; Gambit had once told her that clearly the New Gods must have existed for only the Smith could sculpt such a rear end; one that would make even Baelor the Blessed fall to his knees and want to praise her buttock. Her work outs and training had made her stronger and more muscular and to the people of Braavos, who had come from slaves who understood the meaning of a hard day's work, that had made her even more appealing.
But that didn't mean Arya enjoyed having men constantly adjusting their dicks around her and women whispering of all the things they could do under the sheets while leaning in close to her.
Mystique had been forced to pull her off enchanted 'suitors' several times after she'd decided to take them up on their offers to stroke their cocks… by trying to rip them off at the root with her bare hands. Two weeks earlier when she'd went to use the privy the wife of a shipping merchant had cornered her and kissed her… and in Arya's shock she'd let her mouth slip open and for some mad reason that made the woman decide to jam her tongue nearly down Arya's throat. Another couple had openly suggested she come to their next party where everyone would write their names down on parchment before a grand drawing would decide who would get to fuck who. The Madame of a whore house had sent to the House of Black and White after one party a rod of polished wood with two ends shaped like a man's penis and straps upon it. Lady Deathstrike had apparently lost some contest among the Brotherhood and had been forced to explain to a confused Arya would a 'double sided Lys pleasure rod' was.
Arya shuddered just remembering that conversation.
'Why would anyone want… ugh!' She mentally did a full body wiggle in disgust. 'Grown ups are disgusting! 'Oh, I know my lady… let us take the most disgusting part of my body and shove it into the most disgusting part of your body! We can get sweaty and stinky too while doing it and if we're lucky you'll have a human being rip their way out of you in nine months!'
No, Arya would never do anything like that. Never. Not at all.
'Well… with another person,' she amended, remembering the odd dreams she'd been having concerning herself and Gendry doing some of the things the Braavosi had discussed. Those dreams bothered her greatly… though when she woke up she did feel strange urges and sensations and the only relief came from slipping her hands down her shortclothes-
"You know why you are always picked," Toad said, snapping Arya out of her thoughts. "It's all about impressions."
"What do you mean?" Gendry asked, confused.
"Impressions," Toad repeated. "Think about it… Magneto is trying to rally support for us staying here and making this our base of operations before we head back to Westeros and claim his throne. Yeah, we could go on a rampage and take Braavos by force but some of us would be killed… most likely me." He flashed a self deprecating smile at that before continuing. "And why waste able bodies on a useless fight? We can get the same results by just being smart about things. Show off that we are charming people and they'll let us continue doing what we want. Magneto needs to go because he's our leader and Mystique is his second and very attractive so she's another given. But then you have the rest of us and that's where things get sticky.
"You have people like Deathstrike and Gambit who are easy on the eyes but not exactly the kind of people you want at a private dinner. Her ladyship will end up being a bitch and Gambit will sleep with the wrong person and we'll be fucked. On the other end of the spectrum it doesn't matter how polite Blob and I are we still look like freaks so we're out for the most part unless the host is understanding. But you two?" He waved his hand in their direction. "I mean… you look like the Gods crafted you from portraits of beautiful people frolicking in a meadow."
"I. Do Not. Frolic." Arya ground out in annoyance. Still, she could completely see Toad's point… which didn't make her feel better in the slightest. On the contrary it made her feel a twinge of disgust that she was merely seen as a pretty thing to be paraded out so the Braavosi could lust after her. She understood it, of course, but she didn't like it. Her mother had wanted her to be merely another pretty little thing that could be trotted out like some pampered pup at dinner parties, to be ooohed and aaaahed over by the guests before being sent back to where all the other dollies lived. Arya wanted to make her mark on the world not because of looks but through brains and skill. With her own hands, just like any boy would. And now here she was, part of a group of very special beings, with powers that came straight out of one of Old Nan's tales… and she was still seen as merely another ornament.
'I've traveled halfway around the known world only to remain exactly where I started!' she thought bitterly.
"My dear friends," Magneto said, forcing Arya to pay attention while also bringing the other conversations to a quiet end. "Tonight is a very special night. All of us have been invited to dine with the Sealord of Braavos, so that we might discuss the coming Feast of the Uncloaking."
Arya thought on just what that Feast was and how important it was to the people of Braavos. The city had been founded by escaped slaves and for 111 years they had remained hidden, the Secret City that none could ever find. The Uncloaking was when the Sealord of Braavos had sent ships to all corners of the world to proclaim that they existed; Braavos was real and all would know that the descendants of slaves, treated as little more than cattle, had created one of the mightiest cities in all the known world. Ever since the Feast of the Uncloaking was the most important event in the Free City. Ten days of feasting and pageantry, where all went about their business, day and night, masked in some form. During the daylight hours many would simply wear strips of cloth with eyeholes cut into them, though the wealthy would done more ornate masks. During the night however the true costumes were brought out, so elaborate that often siblings of the same house would not realize that the person they were talking to was their own blood. Families would save for an entire year just to purchase their ornate masks and over the top costumes according to Mystique and on the final night of the festival, at the stroke of midnight, all would tear away their disguises and reveal themselves.
"We have not participated in years past beyond being mere spectators but this Feast I wish to make a far grander impression." Magneto smiled at that, his charming little smirk reminding Arya of an old man who held onto a precious secret and wanted a child to squirm before he'd finally reveal all. "For this year… we will uncloak ourselves as well."
THAT caused everyone to stand a bit straighter.
"You mean…" Lady Deathstrike whispered, shocked just like the rest of them.
"Indeed," Magneto declared. "Westeros is engulfed in war. The Usurper's heir battles with his own bannermen and Wardens and now stands ripe to be plucked. Essos faces its own upheavals in the form of my… kin."
'Daenerys,' Arya thought to herself, thinking on the stories she had heard from the sailors at the port of how the last of the Targeryens was cutting a path through Slaver's Bay and apparently not only hatched dragons but also unlocked her own mutant abilities. Magneto and Mystique had NOT be happy to learn that their relative was managing so much.
"And the news from Qarth… from Latveria… is concerning as well." Arya didn't know much about that, other than the whispers that some warlord calling himself Doom had seized control of the city and was slowly expanding his borders. "Which is why it is time to let the world know of our Brotherhood. To ensure that all know that the Blackfyres have not been snuffed out but remain strong!" He chopped his hand into the other. "We will Uncloak ourselves and let the world know that the true heir to the Iron Throne lives!"
There was no clapping or cheers. Rather the gathered Brotherhood members murmured in approval, respectful to their leader.
"We start with tonight. Save for the few that I leave to watch over the House of Black and White we will all travel to the manse of the Sealord. You WILL give a good impression." He swept his eyes across the room and even Sabertooth, who tried to scoff at such theatrics, shifted a bit when Magneto focused on him. "This is the first step. Remember that. Now… let us be off." He clapped his hands and the forcefulness of his worlds dissipated and was replaced with kindness. "And do have fun!"
Arya scoffed at that and when the others looked at her she gestured at all of them. "You do remember what 'having fun' means for all of us? Including myself?"
"…yes, good point," Magneto admitted, for once actually looking a bit bashful as he realized the trap he'd almost fallen into. "Have fun that won't make me regret bringing you… or consider using you for training."
Half of those gathered trembled at the thought of having to help their leader in the yard; Magneto tended to train by seeing just how much damage you could do to the straw dummies in the most creative way. Arya still had nightmares of him sending a stream of small metal balls into one and then making them explode back out. Yes, each of them could be utterly deadly when it came to training, to the point that all of them had to be careful if they paired off, but Magneto wasn't just dangerous he was… nasty. Having to train with him was only done if one was an utter masochist and even then those that did try it out like Lady Deathstrike or Sabertooth rarely did so more than once or twice a year.
The other half of the group glared at her for ruining their chances at having 'real fun'.
With that the selected members of the Brotherhood made their way out of the House of Black and White; there were still plenty of members of the Brotherhood that wouldn't be joining them, staying behind to protect their home just in case a threat came at them.
"So I've been meaning to ask," Arya said as they stepped out onto the street, "is there a reason other than the door that we call it the House of Black and White."
"But of course!" Magneto declared. "We-"
"No, it's because of the door," Mystique stated, cutting the Master of Magnetism off.
"Raven dear," Magneto said with an annoyed half-smile.
"You were going to begin spinning out some story filled with lies because you're embarrassed you couldn't think of a better name," she pointed out, slowly slightly so she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Arya, wrapping an arm around the young woman. Mystique had chosen to adopt the same form she'd shown off at Harrenhal, though she'd changed her silver hair to a deep black.
"The House of Black and White is a very fine name," Magneto said with a sniff and a raising of his head that didn't fool any of them before launching into the tale.
Arya decided to tune out the story once she realized that it wasn't actually the truth and instead looked about Braavos. No matter how many times she traveled through the streets of the city she always marveled that she was there. So many from Westeros would have scoffed at how star-struck she was, considering that she had grown up in Winterfell, one of the most ancient castles in all of Westoros, and then lived in the Red Keep itself within King's Landing. But with the former that had merely been home and could never hold wonder while the latter had been utterly stifling. Braavos though… it was so different and strange and filled with wonders!
Yes, Mystique liked to always be around her when she went out and if not her have one of the other Brotherhood members walk with her but Arya still got to explore and she was always discovering something new! A shop she'd never entered before, a ship arriving from a distant land she'd never heard of, exotic creatures being bought and sold and weapons practice that was so strange it might as well have been something that came from the stars. Even now, as she walked down the street towards the palace of the Sealord, she couldn't help but smile as she looked about with bright eyes.
'Though… that isn't to say that I love everything about this place,' she thought to herself as she passed one of the many 10 foot tall wooden statues that had begun to rise up in the streets. Designed to resemble the Titan that guarded the bay opening of Braavos, these silent warrior stood sentinel throughout Braavos. They were a creation of a rival to the Sealord apparently and while it was said that they were supposed to be for the Uncloaking Arya always found herself shuddering and shifting away when she say the carved blank faces staring at her. Perhaps it was because that statues were made with many joints, allowing them to be posed in all manner of ways. For Arya statues simply shouldn't move; such ability to shift and manipulate the wooden warriors reminded her too much of Old Nan's tales of the Lonely God and his battle against the Sobbing Statues.
So focused was Arya on the carved figures that when she finally broke out of her thoughts she realized they had already arrived at the Sealord's Palace. The guards allowed them in without a word and the Brotherhood made their way up the tall steps towards the open door. Within they could hear the muted sounds of youngsters laughing and running around but Arya didn't see anyone about.
"The Sealord has taken it upon himself to adopt many orphans," Mystique explained to her. "He did so before he was placed into his position and becoming the leader of Braavos has only motivated him to do more."
Gendry, who was at Mystique's other side, nodded at that. "Good. People too often write off children, especially orphans, as being worthless. You show them a bit of attention, teach them a skill, and they will impress you."
"Spoken from some experience I sense," the Sealord said, approaching them. He was flanked by a young man and woman, perhaps only 2 or so years older than Arya was (now). The woman reminded Arya quite a bit of Sansa, though she had sharper features and her bright red hair was far more curly. The man was tall and lean with brown hair and wore a pair of tinted Myrish spectacles. Between the two of them was the Sealord of Braavos, seated in a wheelchair that he rolled towards the group, a polite smile on his face as he looked up and offered his hand to Magneto.
"Erik."
"Charlus."
