Arya
"How much are you hating this?" Gendry asked.
"Pardon?" Arya looked over at him only to find her view blocked by a caramel colored arm. She leaned back and nearly phased through her chair, she was so startled by the sudden appearance of the servant. She caught herself though, forcing herself to remain solid, and managed a weak smile as the woman set a bowl of a odd limp noodles in a chicken sauce with tiny bits of carrots and some green vegetable she couldn't identify before her. Several of the people at the table, such as Magneto, picked up a set of smooth wooden sticks and used them to gather up the noodles but Arya stuck with the fork; she had enough problems with coordination still when it came to her larger form she didn't need to make matters harder by trying to use utensils she'd never handled before.
"This dinner. How much are you hating it?" Gendry leaned over his bowl as he gathered up the noodles and it was only because Arya knew Mystique would give him a smack that he didn't slurp them down. Gendry was willing to eat anything, commenting that he'd learned early in life to never question a meal.
Arya, for her part, took a much more tentative bite before deciding that this course was good enough for her to partake in.
"A bit," she said after a few moments of thought.
Gendry let out a little huff at that. "I don't understand how you aren't used to this… I thought as a noble lady you always had dinners and balls and dressed in frilly pink dresses." He tilted his head and gave her a once over.
"If you are even THINKING about suggesting I wear a frilly pink dress I'll remove YOUR balls," she snarled, earning a snicker from Toad who was seating across from them and a glower from Mystique who had been chatting with one of the Sealord's guests. "As for your comment," Arya said in a lower voice, so not to disturb the others, "we didn't have large dinners like this back in Winterfell. Oh, we'd eat with the rest of the castle residents but we were up on a higher table and it was actually rather informal. Dogs all over the place, people telling stories… fun but not formal."
"Hmm. Think I'd like to see one of those."
"You will," Arya promised. "When Magneto casts the Lannisters out and takes the throne I'll take you back to Winterfell." It had been one of the only points Arya had made clear to the Brotherhood: the Starks would be pardoned for any crime the Blackfyres might have felt them guilty of. Magneto had agreed without a second thought; her father had helped get rid of Rhaegar, who was of the blood of the falseborn kings, and the Starks hadn't taken part in the Blackfyre Rebellion, seeing it as little concern to them who sat the throne. Mystique had shrugged and said that the Martells were Princes so it would be easy enough for the King in the North to become the Prince in the North… or Princess.
Mystique was hinting rather heavily that she wanted Robb set aside and Arya made the new Warden of the North. As in "saying it without formally announcing it".
'That won't end well for anyone,' she thought to herself. 'I would do it, if I needed to. I like doing sums and when Maester Luwin had me practice running a household he said I did it so well, especially compared to Sa-'
She banished the thought. It hurt too much to think of her sister.
That had been another requirement from Arya: Joffrey would die. Slowly. Painfully. His agony lasting months. He would fucking pay for murdering Sansa.
Magneto had agreed to that… and for some reason suggested Toad remove all the knives from her quarters.
"So nothing like this?" Gendry asked, gesturing about the Sealord's dining hall. It was larger than Winterfell's Great Hall, rivaling the Red Keep's but far more open. Due to weather the Sealord's manse had more openings to allow the sea breeze to waft through, cooling temperatures and exciting the senses. It was brighter too, made up of pale whitish yellow stone with silken tapestries. Where the Red Keep had preferred stained tables that were near black and Winterfell had used dark woods for its furniture the Sealord's hall had tables and chairs made from a light golden wood that made them seem more alive and vibrant. Where Winterfell felt cozy and the King's Landing stifling Braavos was open and freeing and Arya felt the urge to leap from the table and just run about, enjoying the sensation of the wind blowing back her long hair.
But she didn't do that. She knew how important this dinner was.
"No," she said, looking about at the other guests. "Nothing like this. It actually reminds me of King's Landing, in a way."
"What do you mean?" Gendry asked as he ripped open a roll and dabbed it in his soup, encouraged to do so when he saw Gambit do so.
Arya scrunched up her nose in annoyance. "In Winterfell I could trust everyone. I knew their names and they knew me. We were… family. Even if in the loosest sense of the word. But in King's Landing everyone was… false. They all made themselves up to be different people and hid who they really were. You couldn't trust anyone. Even my father acted different when in public, making a mask for himself. I always felt like I was surrounded by strangers. And now…" she let loose a full body shudder, unable to stop herself, "it's happening all over again."
"Hey," Toad said, cutting into the conversation. "You have us. Gendry isn't changing who he is unless its to become metal. And I'm just Toad. Sabertooth, Blob, even Her Stuffiness and Gambit. We aren't changing who we are. We're with you."
Arya smiled at that. "Thank you."
The soup was taken away (Gendry a touch annoyed as he hadn't been finished; he wasn't used to food just disappearing because the host was ready for the next plate) and out came the next course, which was fish breaded in a corn flour and fried up before drizzled with a garlic honey sauce. Arya had never had so much fish before and one would have thought she'd become sick of it but the Braavosi always found a way to make it taste completely different each meal.
Mystique, finishing her conversation, turned to her and with a smile darted her eyes in one direction and the next. "You are handling our host and his guests well enough."
"After Sabertooth and Blob it would take much to startle me," Arya admitted and she cut another bit of her meal and popped it into her mouth… right as a furry blue arm reached around her to snag a sauce boat.
"Ah, pardon me," the owner of that arm stated.
Arya quickly swallowed the mouthful of fish she'd been chewing on lest she spewed it all over. 'You've seen Mystique… you've seen Mystique,' she kept repeating to herself and yet this new arrival was far different from her and somehow stranger. Where Mystqiue's natural form (which she'd slipped into the moment they were in the Sealord's dining hall) was blue with scales her frame was still that of a woman. She had breasts and hips and her proportions were that of any woman; a decidedly beautiful woman, Arya relented, but still a woman. But this man before her was so vastly different from any man she'd ever seen. He was covered from head to toe in blue fur, with a darker mane of it on top of his head forming two wolf-like tuffs. His teeth were sharp like Sabertooth's but far larger and wider while his ears were pointed like a fairy's. He was wide and built with muscle but his proportions were terribly wrong, which his arms too long and his shoulders too broad. His hands easily reached his knees, brushing against his massive calves that couldn't be hidden by the loose dark robe he wore. He was barefoot but his feet looked more like mishapened hands than they did any foot she's ever seen. He looked like some creature that belonged with the Children of the forest.
"Uh… its all right," Arya managed to get out.
"How are you Henrik?" Mystique asked.
"I am very well, Ravan. Though Henrik? Truly? I thought we were closer than that. How did the Pentosi bard Milopho put it? 'The shortening of a name is the closing of a distance between two souls'."
Mystique rolled her eyes at that but smiled all the same. "I was trying to be formal since I thought you were in an official role but very well, Hank." She gestured towards Arya and Gendry. "Have you met the two newest members of the Brotherhood?"
"Well, I suppose I have, seeing as I am meeting them now." Toad and Mystique moved apart but before Arya could consider just what they were doing Hank suddenly leapt into the air, nimbly snatching a plate of fish as he flipped over their heads, and landing between the two before setting both the plate and the sauce boat down. "I am Henrik Tarly but my acquaintances call me Hank."
"Or Beast," Toad said.
Arya thought that Hank might take offense to that but he merely chuckled. "When I was younger, good man, when I was younger." He leaned back in his chair, a wistful look on his face. "Of course, it depends on how far back you wish to go. Too far and the idea of being called 'Beast' would have seemed like an odd jape… perhaps purely because of my build." He looked down his nose at Arya. "When I was quite a bit younger I was sent by my father, Wendyll, to the Citadel to study as a maester. Or, perhaps it would be better to state that I informed him that I was going to the Citadel and when he complained I lifted him over my head and nearly sent him through a table." He chuckled when Arya set him a rather startled look. "I have always been of a more bookish nature but that doesn't mean I can't fight when I need to. My father only ever understood strength; that's why my brother Randyll was a far better choice to lead the family than I. I am quite pleased he was the elder and I was able to go off and become a Knight of the Mind."
Gendry frowned. "Is it common for maesters to be… furry?"
"Oh?" Beast looked at his hands as if suddenly remembering what he looked like. "Oh. Of course. I forgot you are new. No no, my good fellow… this is a result of an accident when I was attempting to get my link in the Mysterious Arts. One maester, a very old man I might add, came in quite suddenly where I was working only to give himself such a fright he dropped dead. Heart attack. He fell into the fire I was working with, there was a flash of green, and well… I awoke like this." He gave a shrug and a sigh. "Such is life."
Arya was about to say, "Not my life" only to remember that a few months ago she was a normal little girl and now she had the body of a ten and seven year old beauty and could phase through walls.
"Tell me, how much has dear Raven told you about us?" Hank asked.
"Not much," Arya admitted.
"So in other words nothing," the blue furred man said.
Mystique shot him a look. "You know how I teach."
"Direction when it comes to fights and all that but with observations it is sink or swim? "When one tosses someone into a pond to teach them to swim they either end up with a corpse for a very angry student," as the sage Tino said." Beast sat back up and began to cut into his fish, swirling it in a bit of sauce. "Very well, it will fall to me to make the introductions."
"Hank…" Mystique warned.
"Only the basics. They can make their own judgments, I assure you." Before Mystique could give her okay (and with Toad grinning in amusement, clearing seeing this as a show to go with his dinner) Hank began to point people out, the guests of the Sealord. He gestured first to a red haired woman that reminded Arya of Sansa only a bit harder and less of the dreaminess her sister had held. She couldn't see the woman that was quietly talking with Magento sitting calmly by a window waiting for a prince to come. "Let us start with the lovebirds. Jeen is Charlus' ward. Like us she comes from the Riverlands… rumor is she is a bastard daughter of the Lord of Riverrun."
Arya forced herself not to react to that; she doubted Hank knew who she was, as Mystique had been QUITE clear they were to only go by the names Magnero had given them at this dinner. Yet it was still rather startling to think that she might have a relative here in Braavos.
'I wonder if Mother knows,' she thought quietly as Hank detailed how the Sealord had found the woman as a young girl serving as a cooking wench on a galley. 'Is that why she hated Jon? Because she has a bastard sister and loathed her for some reason?'
"Her ability is that she can move thing with her mind. A nifty trick if she is interested in showing off, but I wouldn't ask her too; she gets offended. Next to her is her husband, Scott the Summer Knight." Hank grabbed a roll and broke it open, using it to dab at the sauce on his plate. Arya looked at the man who appeared to be rather average, from his dull brown clothes that matched his hair to his stubble-lined cheeks. The only thing odd about him were the Myrish glasses he wore for they had red lenses on them and were pressed so tightly to his face she thought they must ache something fierce. "Honestly there isn't much to tell about him as we don't know much about his life before Charlus found him. It is said a whaling vessel found him adrift in the northern seas, barely alive with only a medallion emblazed with a summer sun upon it, two swords crossed behind. That's how he got his name… he isn't actually a knight."
"What can he do?" Gendry asked.
It was Toad who answered. "Those glasses aren't for show. His eyes are constantly firing off beams of energy that can pierce stone… those lenses are made from rubies and that is the only thing that can block them."
Arya grimaced at that, for the first time seeing just how dangerous it could have been going through Magneto's ritual; she could have easily ended up with a power like THAT!
"I think you'll like this next dish, Hank," a woman with skin darker than Arya had ever seen, even darker than that of the Summer Island prince who King Robert had entertained, called out. She was wearing a white dress that flowed about her like water, not minding it the slightest that it was so revealing that a slight shift left her most private areas exposed. She had a full mane of ivory hair that curled about her head almost defying gravity. "I helped the cook prepare it myself!"
"I can't wait!" Hank said before looking back to the two newest members of the Brotherhood. "You shouldn't either… Ororo's food is to die for. She's from the southern most Summer Isles, if you haven't guessed. Though," he rubbed his chin, "I suppose when dealing with someone of her power it is wise to compliment their cooking even if it is horrible."
"What can she do?" Arya asked.
"She can control the weather."
Gendry crinkled his nose at that as the servants took away their fish, bringing out thin cuts of chicken breast on a bed of greens and rice, roasted to a perfect crisp with a pepper spice rubbed onto it. "The weather? Like making it sunny or a bit breezy? How is that dangerous?"
Toad grimaced. "Trust me… when she begins hurling bolts of lightning or summoning tornados you'll be singing a different tune."
Gendry shrunk down in his chair, which was quite a feat considering his size.
There were several others that Beast pointed out during that course. A man who, at first, Arya had thought was wearing a feathered cloak (as she had seen some Summer Islanders who had arrived in Braavos sporting such garments) only to learn that they were in fact wings, allowing him not only flight but the ability to heal the injured if they held one of his fathers. There was a man in rather garish green and yellow robes who could let loose screams that would send people flying… and make himself fly as well. A young woman, younger than Arya was (physically at least), who could shoot sparks from her fingers that Hank said Arya should spend some time with; Mystique had rolled her eyes at that and muttered something that Arya didn't quite catch.
"What about her?" Gendry asked, nodding towards a woman with brownish red hair, a white streak running through it, who was the only woman at the table not wearing a dress. She was instead wearing leathers, including a tight brown jacket, gloves on her hands and a cloth band holding her bangs back. She, unlike the rest of the Sealord's companions, was making no attempt to talk with anyone.
"Rogue," Hank said with a grimace. "She-"
"Is none of your concern," Mystique cut in.
Arya was about to ask what the problem was when the Sealord cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Well, I've just come to realize that I have been rather rude, ignoring our new guests. I am used to Erik only bringing his regular companions-" he waved towards Blob and Sabertooth and Lady Deathstrike, "but it is rare for him to bring new members of his Brotherhood here to dine. Who are you?"
She opened her mouth to answer only for Mystique to nudge her with her foot. "Shadowcat," Arya stated.
"Colossus."
The Sealord smiled, bemused at their use of their Brotherhood names. "And how did you come to meet Erik?"
"On our travels," Arya stated, not quite liking how the black man was staring at her. It was a lustful leer or a scornful gaze… yet it made her feel naked and exposed all the same.
"There must be more to it than that," the Sealord said. "A blacksmith from King's Landing and… the daughter of the Warden of the North?" Arya started at that. "What strange companions to be on the road-"
"Enough, Charlus," Magneto said sternly. "If they wish to share the story they may, I will not deny them that. But you will NOT go worming your way through their minds!"
"Worming… what?" Gendry whispered.
Mystique glowered at the Sealord. "Charlus' ability. He can read your mind."
Arya pushed herself away from the table.
"Please, don't leave," the Sealord said with a gentle smile. "I am terribly sorry. I didn't mean to read your thoughts… you were projecting so very loudly though it was impossible not to hear what you were thinking. Your minds… they linger on home." He looked at Arya. "Especially you, little wolf."
"Cat," Arya said. "Not a wolf. Shadowcat."
"Of course," the Sealord said instantly. "My apologizes."
'Did he hurt you?'
Arya swallowed as she heard the man speak…without him opening his lips.
"Charlus…" Magneto warned.
'If any of them have hurt you… forced you to leave your home and come here… say the word and I will help you. You don't need to be afraid, Arya Stark of Winterfell. My students and I will protect you-'
'Mystique is protecting me,' Arya thought back, narrowing her eyes. 'She saved me when no one else could. She is helping me master my powers. Giving me a purpose.'
'At the cost of your loyalty and your youth,' the Sealord thought back to her with sadness coloring every word. 'Do you truly understand what they want from you?'
Arya, gritting her teeth, decided not to answer but instead brought up the mental image of Hodor standing buck naked, jumping up and down while flailing his arms, his cock bouncing about every time he leapt in the air. The Sealord's eyes widened at that and now it was his turn to lean back.
'Stay. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Head.'
The Sealord nodded and turned to Jeen. "Please honor Shadowcat's request not to read her or Colossus' thoughts. It is only polite."
"Of course," Jeen said.
There was a crack and Arya whipped her head to see that Mystique had snapped her fork in half.
"Perhaps you should always ask permission first, Charlus," Magneto told him.
"That is rather rich, coming from you," the Sealord countered.
The dinner continued after that but the good humor faded and the concealed posturing that Arya had sensed, that had reminded her so much of King's Landing, was revealed and brought to the surface. Every comment was weighed with a history that Arya didn't know. People pretended to be saying something without a second thought but clearly were considering just how to word every sentence that left their mouths. No actions went by that wasn't examined, considered, and placed away for later used. It made the heavy rich food sit all the more on her stomach and by the time the servants brought out the dense chocolate squares coated in heavy glaze she'd been ready to begin phasing the food right through her to avoid having to add more to her rolling stomach.
'I can't even get drunk to numb the pain,' she thought bitterly, sipping her wine. It seemed even with her accelerated aging and new powers she was still stuck with the Stark curse of never being able to feel the effects of alcohol.
Eventually, though the meal broke up, that led to the dawning horror that for the Brotherhood and the Sealord's party a grand feast didn't actually end with the feast. Where Winterfell and King's Landing had sometimes featured dancing at the end of the meal usually when the last course was served that was the sign for people to get up and get out. As Robb had once jested it was her father politely telling everyone, "You don't have to return to your dwellings but you can not remain here".
But the feast here was different, for as the servants removed the dishes they were all led to yet another ballroom, one that had all manner of tables and chairs scattered about, and Arya quickly realized that now she would have to actually mingle and talk with the guests. And there wasn't even food around to distract herself with!
'Bloody hell I should have stayed at the House,' she thought to herself as she looked about, desperately trying to find some way out of this awkwardness.
For all her energy and daring nature Arya wasn't someone that warmed up to strangers. Part of that had been the fact that in Winterfell she'd lived a rather sheltered life. She'd never gone to other castles before the King had come, it had never been considered to have her fostered someplace else, and when her father had traveled he'd taken Robb and sometimes Jon with him; never her. Then there was the fact that when she had finally been taken on a grand progress down south the butcher's son had been murdered by that little shit Joffrey, she'd been forced to drive away Nymeria, King's Landing had been filled with asses that either wanted nothing to do with her or desperately wanted her favor purely to get in good with her father, and she'd finally been forced to flee when the Lannisters had tried to adduct her.
No… Arya trusted those that had earned her allegiance and had no time for anyone else. Period. Thus why the thought of mingling with others was so unappealing to her.
'Though it doesn't seem anyone else is having a problem with that,' she thought to herself glumly. Toad and Blob were chatting with the Summer Knight and Jeen, though from the way Scott tensed every so often she didn't think the man was enjoying the conversation. Having a better time of it was Lady Deathstrike and Ororo, who were drinking wine while looking out a window. Even Sabertooth was sitting in a corner, grunting at the winged man tried to make small talk with him. Gendry was being introduced to Jubilee by Hank and hearing how the girl in the yellow dress squealed Arya had no desire to get into that conversation. Magento and the Sealord had found a Cyvasse board and were in the middle of a spirited game already. That left-
She stopped as she looked about. She couldn't find Mystique.
Slipping away she left the hall and wandered around a bit, looking at the décor. For all its exotic flare it was basically the Red Keep in terms of what the Sealord used to decorate his manse; paintings of battles long ago fought, some busts of men long dead, swords that hadn't been used in ages. It was rather boring in Arya opinion; the swords were the only really interesting things but even they could only hold her attention so long, especially since she couldn't actually swing them around.
Finally, just when she was thinking of trying to find her way back to the hall, she heard the sound of muted voices echoing down the passageway and she quickly followed, seeing light dancing from one side room. Creeping quietly she leaned in just enough to give her a peek inside the room. It wasn't that impressive, more of a storeroom than anything, with shelves lined with cookware and bags of flour sitting on the flour. But this was where Mystique had gone. And she wasn't alone.
"-just ta mock me. Don't try an' deny it," Rogue said, jabbing a gloved finger at Mystique.
For her part the blue skinned woman rolled her eyes. "Yes, because every action I take is weighed with, "how can I make Rogue even more pissed off at me today?" You didn't always have this well developed sense of ego."
"Ego?" Rogue said with a harsh laugh. "You're one ta talk! The great and powerful Raven, first of her name, of the blood of kings! If ya ain't of her noble birth than ya can piss off."
"You know that isn't true," Mystique said, firmly but with far less fire than Rogue. In fact to Arya's ears she sounded… subdued.
Rogue though let out a scoff. "Come on now, don't treat me like I just fell off the turnip wagon. You sided against me because of blood-"
"I did no such thing!" Mystique snapped before calming herself. She was tensing, wanting to pace about the room, but it was too small to do so and that left her standing there, fidgeting. Arya had never seen Mystique fidget before.
"Yes ya did. Ya decided that Erik's promises of crowns was worth more than the rest of us. And now ya grab that prissy little lordling's daughter… what lies did ya fill her head with in order to win that prize?"
"I'm no one's prize!" Arya declared, walking right through the wall and glaring at Rogue.
"Arya!" Mystique exclaimed. "This doesn't-"
But she was too full of fury to care. First this woman had insulted her teacher and now she was insulting her? Acting like she knew her? She had no right and Arya wanted her to know that!
"I don't know what your problem is but Mystique saved my life! She opened my eyes up to a world I never knew and gave me the freedom I always wanted."
"Oh, cry me a river and ya might flood Braavos," Rogue said with a huff and a dismissive wave of her hand. "How tough ya life must have been, gettin' ta go ta tea parties and wearing fancy dresses and having servants do whatever you wanted." Rogue stepped forward and began to poke Arya's shoulder. "Ya ever fight off someone in order to fill your belly? See a friend smile at ya one day then stab ya in the back the next because they want your spot which was warmer? Sold every part of ya just ta have a scrap of cloth to wrap yourself in? Nah… I know your type. Pampered little lady, aren't ya?"
"no, I'm not," Arya snarled.
"If ya think ya're gonna get me ta back down I ain't one of your servants ya can pick on. I'm gonna make it real clear what is goin' on. Mystique doesn't care about ya. She never did. She don't care 'bout no one bur herself."
"Maree, that's enough," Mystique growled.
But the other woman continued on, still poking Arya's shoulder. "Ya're just somethin' ta keep her entertained until her next plan comes into place. Then she'll just toss ya away without a second thought. Ya can cry and scream and plead but she'll never look back." Arya found herself having to back up, as Rogue's jabs were getting stronger and her face leering closer to her own. "Assumin' ya ain't just a project yourself. She does that… she uses people. Finds someone and fills their head with hopes and dreams and then abandons 'em once she's gotten what she wants. She'll do that to ya too."
"No she won't," Arya said, trying to make her voice firm and fierce.
"Ya… she will. Ya just a replacement, princess. Ya might still see her, might still have a chance to talk ta her, but in the end she'll care nothing for ya. You'll just be underfoot-"
Underfoot.
That nickname.
That horrible, mocking nickname.
Some had used it as a term of endearment back in Winterfell, as a light jape. And she'd smiled when they did so. But it had hurt all the same because those that didn't, like Sansa and Jenye, had used it as a dagger to slowly skin her alive. To torture her and torment her. To remind her that no matter what she did she would never find her place. Never belong. Be always in the way, the outsider.
Underfoot.
Arya roared and snapped her head forward, headbutting Rogue right in the face.
The pleasure she might have felt with striking the arrogant and vicious woman died the moment their skin touched. In that instant Arya felt as if her very soul was being drained away. She screamed and fell back and even though it had been for just a second it had felt like eons. The moment they broke apart Arya fell to the ground, her legs giving out and her body shaking in pain. She'd never experienced anything like that. It wasn't a tiredness or a weariness. No… this was something far worse. To Arya it felt as if something had been drawn from her… stolen away. Mystique was holding her and she tried to keep her eyes open but she was suddenly so tired and scared and it hurt so much-
"Oh… oh sugah," Rogue whispered, her earlier anger gone and replaced with deep sadness. "I didn't know… I'm so-"
A roar filled the air and in the next instant Rogue had been yanked out of the room.
Arya turned her head and saw Sabertooth holding her upside down, her ankles clenched in her hands. The bestial man snarled and gave her a hard shake.
"There are ways for me to kill you without touching you," he growled before he began to spread her legs apart. "Always did enjoy breaking the wishbone-"
Rogue then PHASED through his grasp, dropping to the ground and moving to sweep his leg. But Sabertooth recovered quickly and brought his foot down hard on her leg, making the woman cry out; Arya wasn't sure if he'd broken something or not.
"Like I was saying-"
A blast of red energy hit him, causing him to collide into Rogue and sending the two of them flying from Arya's view.
"So this is how you treat your hosts?" Scott declared, entering the doorway and putting his glasses back on. "I warned-"
Gendry chose that moment to come barreling in, his metallic skin gleaming as he slammed into Scott and knocked HIM away.
"Nice going tin can," Sabertooth said with a groan somewhere to Arya's right.
"That was Arya screaming! Did you- Arya!" he turned as he spotted her only for another red beam to strike him, sending him flying. She heard Sabertooth roar and Toad and Blob cry out in protest before other voices joined the fray.
"Enough of this!" Mystique shouted, leaning Arya against a wall.
"Everyone!" the Sealord commanded. "Stop this at once!"
"You started this Charlus!" Magneto declared from down the hall. "I told you what would happen if your students attacked us! You asked for this meeting, to try and see if we have common ground, and you attack us-"
"You attacked us first!" Scott declared, though he sounded a bit woozy thanks to Gendry's hit.
"Because she attacked the half-pint," Sabertooth said.
"Shadowcat?" Magneto asked before his voice grew dark and cold. "What did you do to her?"
"Is she alright?"
"Let the girl speak."
"Did she attack first?"
"What happened?"
"Who started-"
It was too much. Everything ached and mind was fuzzy and she just wanted to GO!
Arya let out a scream and phased through the wall… which proved to be rather foolish as beyond it was nothing but open air.
She tumbled, her worn out body bouncing like a discarded doll, as she rolled down a hill until finally coming to a stop on a sandy beach. She laid there for several moments, tasting blood in her mouth and feeling new bruises and cuts developing, before curling in on herself and sobbing. Arya didn't know why she was crying she just knew that she wanted to cry. She felt young and stupid and weak but she just wanted to remain on the beach forever and sob until the entire world went away.
But the world didn't go away. Life had to continue on. And soon she was aware of someone sitting down next to her, rubbing her back.
"Now now, chere, ya cry as much as ya want to. Ol' Gambit told them cooyons up there ta leave ya be. They all wanted ta come down and talk ta ya but I told'em ya needed some time ta yourself."
"Then… then why are you," Arya hiccupped, "here?"
"Cuss I ain't just somebody I'm Gambit!" he said like that was the most sensible answer in the world.
Arya couldn't help it… she laughed.
"See, made ya smile, didn't I?" he said, giving her a pat on the back one more time before settling his hands on his knees. She slowly uncurled herself and looked out on the Narrow Sea, the moon shining brightly upon it so it looked like mirror glass. It was beautiful and peaceful and now all she wanted was to wade into that water and join with it and become the water itself. For her power to be to become water so she could join with the ocean and forget about the land forever. "Recoverin' rather well from that little drain Rogue gave ya. Better than some, let me tell ya. Gambit been on the side of one of her little love taps before and it can wear a man down! Been ta orgies that didn't leave me so tired."
"Drain?" Arya asked dumbly.
Gambit smiled. "That feelin'? Like ever bit of energy ya ever had is now gone? That's her power. Rogue touches a person, skin ta skin, and she absorbs their power. Lets her heal, makes her stronger, and if she touches someone like us she gets our powers." Her eyes flew open wide at that but before her fear could take hold Gambit continued, "No need ta worry yar little pretty head, chere. She'd have ta hold on till ya were near dead ta take your powers forever. That was just a minor tap. Powers already back… ya got out here, didn't ya?"
"Yeah," Arya said, feeling silly for forgetting that.
The two of them sat in silence for several minutes after that, the only sounds that could be heard were the dull roar of Braavos and the ocean. The city never seemed to sleep, just like King's Landing. Arya had always found it so hard to sleep in the Tower of the Hand, for it felt as if the city was taunting her with so many adventures that she'd never get to experience if she remained lying in her bed. Winterfell had never been like that. Winterfell was like… it was like the ocean that lay before her. Sometimes raging and filled with insanity, yet then it would suddenly grow still and quiet and it made her feel so small by being so big and silent.
"Magneto and the Charlus… they were once friends," Gambit finally said quietly; in fact it was the softest she'd ever heard the Swamp Rat get. "They found each other early on in life, while Magneto was merely Erik Blackfyre and Charlus was just a bastard son of the Lord of Storm's End. Gambit don't remember which one… so hard ta keep all dem lords and ladies straight. Don't help none they keep reusin' names." He chuckled. "That's why ol' Gambit like the name Gambit."
"I don't think there has been another Arya Stark before me," she said. For all the things that annoyed her about her mother trying to force her Southern Ways onto the North giving her a Southern name wasn't one of them.
Gambit nodded at that but didn't comment on her name. "Dem two, they thought they'd be the next Aegon and Orys. Leadin' the Blackfyres back ta glory, take the throne and all dat. But Charlus…" Gambit shook his head. "He was too slow for Magneto. Always preaching patience. Care. Slow down, wait. Till finally Magneto realized that Charlus never planned for them to return to Westeros. Just wanted'em to remain in Essos forever. 'Revenge by livin' a good life' he said. Magneto… he was not interestin' in that. Their group split apart… Magneto made his Brotherhood and Charlus gathered his 'students' that he could teach a better and different way.
"Rogue was raised by Mystique. Found that spitfire when she was just a tiny little thing and loved 'er like any mother would. But when it came ta the split… Mystique went with Magneto. No one else she'd want ta be with. But Rogue… Rogue always walked her own path and she decided ta stick with Charlus. Mystique felt she should have gone with her, Rogue feel da same way. And that is how we ended up where we at."
Arya though scowled a bit at that, rubbing her forehead. She hadn't realized how much her skull was aching after that headbutt. "And that makes it okay for her to treat Mystique like she did? To treat me like she did?"
"Course not, chere," Gambit said with a slight shrug, his lips quirking into a smile that was so weak it might as well have been nothing at all. "Life ain't 'bout justifyin' why people do things. Just explainin' what happened. Rogue… that filly has a chip on 'er shoulder and a problem with confidence, believe it or not." Gambit rolled his shoulders. "Things were good when she were little but when she got older she begun ta feel like she were just a replacement for Mystique's children."
"What?" Arya said, nearly falling over onto the sands at that. "Mystique… she's a mother?"
She'd seen her mentor as many things. A fighter. A leader. A teacher. And yes… she had seen her as a mother-like figure. Someone that looked out for her, cared for her, made she that she became a better person than she had been before.
But… a mother mother? As in birthing babies? Cradling them to her chest, cooing over their little toes, wiggling her fingers against their pink bellies?
She just… couldn't see it.
Something must have shown in her features because Gambit gave her a sharp look.
"That's only for your ears, chere. You deserve ta know, all things considered, but I don't want ya spreadin' it around." He shot her a dark glare, not filled at all with the normal flirty good humor. No, this was Gambit taking all the maturity and authority that he normally spent his entire life avoiding and delivering it all in one firm unrelenting glare.
"I won't," Arya said softly.
"Raven… she doesn't like talkin' about them."
"Them? Her kids?"
"Boy and girl. Twins. Had to give'em up." He shook his head. "Can't say no more 'bout it, need to keep it a secret ta protect'em… but it hurts 'er. And hurts 'er more that Rogue thinks she can't have enough love for both them and 'er." He nudged his shoulder with his own, his smile returning. "You too, chere."
"How do you know this?" Arya asked even as she smiled at his words.
Gambit let out a little sigh. "Cuss Gambit… he was the one that helped her hide 'em away." He grew quiet against, staring out at the ocean. "Ya want ta get back up there?"
"No," Arya said softly. "I don't. I don't want to move. Don't want to go back to the House, or the manse, or Braavos or Westeros or anywhere. I just want to stay right here." She trickled her fingers along the sand, watching as she made little trenches that began to fill back up after a few moments. "Everything here is so… simple. Easy." She let out a content sigh. "I've missed simple."
Gambit didn't say a word about that. But he did remain sitting next to her.
Arya smiled. It was peaceful on the beach. Beautiful too. She was able to just focus on the waves and the water, watching as the little bits of flotsam bobbed in the water, the moonlight dancing on the surface of the Narrow Sea-
She stopped, her eyes catching something flashing in the pale light that came from the full moon. Something different from the bits of driftwood and seaweed that bobbed in the waves. Something large… metallic…
And then a wave rose and she saw the object raise its hand.
"…you see that too?" Gambit asked, already getting to his feet even as Arya sprang up as well. "Good… Gambit didn't think he drank that much."
Without a word the two of them rushed into the surf, pushing against the ocean that, despite its calm, suddenly seemed like it was trying to drive them back. The waves that had looked so gentle and loving were now tossing Arya about and she cursed her stupid dress as it clung to her body and made it hard for her to walk. One of her slippers fell off and she kicked off the other one, fighting against the waves as she moved towards the man that was rising and falling in the surf. He was clinging to a broken piece of mast, his head down but thankfully his face wasn't plunged into the water.
Together her and Gambit dragged the figure back towards the shore, pulling his heavy form up enough to get him onto land even if it was impssible for them to get him fully onto dry shore. Still, he wouldn't drown and Arya rolled him onto his back, getting a good look at the water-logged figure.
He had black hair, cut short and clearly cared for. A neatly trimmed beard adorned his face though new stubble showed that he hadn't had a chance to shave for at least a day or two. He was wearing shattered armor and it had only been the mast that he'd clung to that had kept him from being pulled down to the dark depths. Much of it was missing to, revealing dark clothing underneath, but there was enough of it left. A gauntlet. Much of the breastplate. A bit of the shin guard. It was melted in spots, the metal oddly twisted with bubbled seams where it had broken and snapped from some extreme heat. And in the center of it all, right in the middle of the chest piece, was a bright glowing Sunstone.
"…it's the fuckin' Iron Man," Gambit whispered.
But Arya knew him by a different name.
"Antony?" she exclaimed.
That seemed to draw her father's cousin out of unconscious state. His eyes fluttered open and he stared at her, brow furrowing in confusion. "Ly… Lyanna?"
"No. It's Arya. Arya Stark."
Antony looked at her, brow furrowed.
"How… how long was I adrift?!"
