Chapter 20: Arya

The ground was hard underfoot. Arya wasn't sure why that surprised her, she was in a city now, nothing would be as soft as Winterfell had been. But still, the fact that this particular part of ground was so hard, surprised her. She had thought parts of the Red Keep were weaker than others. That's what that book Jon always used to read had said.

Supposedly the actions of the Lannister army during the Sack of King's Landing had caused parts of the Keep to weaken, exposing them to the elements. Arya looked around and saw solid walls and solid floors. There was nothing weak about the part of the Keep she was in.

Arya wasn't even sure why it was called the Red Keep. Keeps were not as big as this one was. Keeps usually contained a few floors, maybe a few extensions. The Red Keep was a sprawling mass of buildings, connected together by bridges and pathways and other such things. It surely should be a Palace.

Uncle Benjen had told her that they had palaces in Braavos. He'd been there once or twice, many years ago. He'd even stayed with the Sealord of Braavos. She wondered if she'd ever get to see Braavos. She doubted it. She doubted whether she'd ever see Winterfell again. Not with what father wanted for her.

Dejectedly she huffed. Father wanted her to be like Sansa. He had said as much when he'd told her that she could only have Needle back if she continued to attend the etiquette lessons Septa Mordane held for Sansa and her friends. Arya hated those lessons. There was so much that she had to learn, so much she had to remember, and it all seemed so pointless.

What they were learning was all southern etiquette, things like which knife to hold for the main course compared to desert. And all that other rubbish. She didn't want that. She wanted to go back to the north. If she had to marry, why couldn't she marry someone who'd accept her for who she was?

An Umber for instance. They'd accept her.

"I don't think Mother would like it if I married an Umber though." Arya said, looking at Nymeria, her only friend in the entire capital.

Nymeria said nothing, she only followed, as Arya continued walking. Mother wanted her to be like Sansa, and because Mother wanted that, Father was trying to make sure she became that. What she wanted? Well that wasn't relevant. Not at all.

"It's not fair." Arya muttered to herself.

She hated these etiquette classes, and she hated needlework, but those were the things Septa Mordane insisted she learn. The things she was good at, like numbers, like counting things, those were not deemed important. It was like Septa Mordane wanted her to become an idiot.

Sansa didn't see it that way though. Oh no, Sansa thought Arya was being childish, that learning numbers and being good at knowing them was foolish, after all no husband would want a woman who could count better than him. But then, Arya had asked Sansa whether she would want a husband who would act cruel, and Sansa had gone silent at that.

Arya had apologised, because as Septa Mordane had reminded her, criticising the Crown Prince was like treason. Sansa had accepted the apology, but there had been something in her eyes, that suggested Arya wasn't too wrong with her question.

Arya didn't know what had happened that day, the Hound remained with Joffrey, but Sansa never seemed quite as keen on Joffrey as she had been before. Why, she didn't say, and nobody else seemed to know. But Arya knew. And that frustrated her. It frustrated her a lot.

A growl from Nymeria pulled her away from her thoughts.

Arya looked at her wolf. "What is it girl?"

Nymeria's growl deepened.

A hiss from her left prompted Arya to turn and face that way. She found herself staring at a one eyed black cat, with a slightly chewed left ear. The cat hissed and then turned and ran. Nymeria growled and ran after the cat.

Arya called out for Nymeria, but the wolf didn't stop, so, Arya ran after her.

That took her down several hallways that were strangely empty, down a set of stairs and then another hallway, before Nymeria suddenly stopped. The cat was gone, but there were voices coming from around the corner. Arya pressed herself against the wall, as Nymeria moved to her.

The voices sounded close by but also distant.

"It has been done, my lord." a deep voice said.

"You made sure it got into the hands of the right person?" another, softer voice asked.

"I did, lord." the deeper voice said.

"Good, now with luck that will prompt the lady to come hurrying down to seek answers and we can get what we want." The softer voice said.

"Indeed, my lord." the deeper voice said.

"You will tell me when the lady appears." The soft voice commanded.

The deeper voice replied softly. "Of course, my lord."

Arya heard the footsteps getting closer and immediately turned and ran, thankfully her footsteps were light and they didn't echo. She didn't stop running until she almost bumped into Jory.

"Lady Arya, where are you going?" Jory asked her, grinning.

"I…" Arya began.

"Never mind," Jory interrupted. "Your Lord father sent me to look for you. You're going to be late for dinner."

Arya groaned. Dinner, with the Royal Family, that would be horrendous. As she allowed Jory to lead her away, she did find herself wondering who those two people had been and what they'd been talking about.