In which Arya starts to change things.
*Year 298 After Conquest(AC) - New Past*
Mind games are never Arya's strong suit. Sure, she had learnt it a great deal at the House of Black and White, courtesy of The Waif, and got beaten a lot for it too - she is a terrible player against The Waif and a slow learner - but that doesn't mean she didn't enjoy playing them nonetheless. Especially if she is the one that has the upper hand against her enemy.
That is why she is here in the dining hall, enjoying her dinner along with the royal family. Even though she had just witnessed a major incident on that very same day. Her father and brother, Robb are still on their hunting trip with The King leaving only her mother and her other siblings. Though Jon doesn't follow the hunting troop, he is not here. He seems to keep disappearing a lot these days.
Cersei is with her children along with The Imp, Tyrion who finally decides to make an appearance. He is merrily chatting away with almost everyone at the table. Arya doesn't realize how talkative he is. The occasional giggling and laughing can be heard filling the hall, lightening everyone's mood.
But, one person is unaffected by all of this. Cersei Lannister is uncomfortable. Even from the corner of her eye, Arya can sense the woman's tension. She is even drinking more than The Imp.
Arya feels a bit of satisfaction at the queen's distress as she puts her own façade in place. Squirming intentionally on her seat once in a while and poking her food, not really eating. If anyone is paying any attention, they might think that the little girl is uneasy about something, scared even. Lucky for her, one woman is doing just that.
A servant boy does his duties and refills Cersei's glass of wine when it becomes empty yet again. She continues taking another sip, all this while, stealing glances at the young girl.
Arya puts her fork down with a hidden smile. Can she be more obvious?
"Mother," she speaks up, earning full attention from everyone at the table. Cersei stiffened.
The young girl makes a show of catching the queen's gaze. Emerald eyes wavered only slightly before it turns cold again. Arya is almost impressed. Perhaps she thought I would rat her out now.
Grey eyes change to find her mother's now. "May I retire early for the night?" she asked for permission, gaze softening.
Catelyn studies her youngest daughter for a while before breaking into a warm smile. "Yes, of course, dear. Go on."
Hearing that, Arya slowly stands up, facing the queen now. "Your Grace." She curtsies properly, catching Cersei's eyes and openly conveying of how scared and frightened the little girl in front of her is through her grey orbs. Arya is aware that everyone, especially her mother is watching.
The young Stark turns and walks out of the room then, feeling the prickling of everyone's eyes still on her until she rounds the corner and out of sight.
As she places her foot forward one after the other, her mind swims with millions of ideas and plans on how to eradicate Cersei Lannister.
*
It was a surprise that Arya had a good night sleep last night. Considering that she had witnessed a rather scandalous affair of the Queen with a certain Kingsguard. She wonders why nothing hasn't happened to her yet. It was certain that they saw her there and yet they still have not taken any action.
The calm disturbs her.
She stops short, a familiar back enters her vision from not far. She continues walking towards his side now, but still out of his view. The young man is still unaware of another presence as he swings his steel sword onto a torn human-sized sack that was tied up against a pole.
"Will you leave the poor sack alone?"
His steel sword stops mid-air and he turns around to face the little girl. Arya tilts her head to the side, staring back at her half-brother. "It won't help with your brooding."
Jon frowns as he catches his breath. "I'm not brooding."
"Is it? Then what do you call this then?" she asked, nudging her head towards the scene. Jon turns back around, facing the sack again.
"I'm practising."
"I see... That's why you stop our usual sword training? Because you find that practising with a sack is a lot better than practising with me?"
Jon turns to her again at that, startled. "What? That's not it." he trails, studying her serious expression. "I was just…" he tried but fall short of words to say.
Arya narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms, trying to imitate angry. But seeing him speechless and restless is amusing. She can't help it when her face finally breaks into a grin. Seeing that, Jon instantly relax, sighing before chuckling himself.
Satisfied by his smile, Arya continues. "Why aren't you at dinner yesterday?"
"The Queen was there."
"So I've heard. You still haven't answered my question yet."
He sighs again. "It's not appropriate for me to dine on the same table with the royal family… you know that."
Arya frowns. "No, I don't. Who asked you to? Mother?"
He shakes his head lightly before continue. "No. But, I know she wanted to, so I save her all the trouble."
Arya takes a few steps closer to him. "Well, obviously you know nothing, Jon." She snatches away the sword from his grasp. The sword is heavy but still manageable for her. She takes a stance in front of the torn sack and takes the first swing. "This is your home, you should be able to eat wherever you like." She finished, the slashing sound of steel against rag accompanying them.
Jon walks ahead, standing in front of the young girl now. "It's not that big of a deal anyway." He shrugged. Arya stops swinging and looks up at him instead.
"Yes, it is." She held his gaze. "They are our guest and should follow our way, not we them. Especially for that wretched queen and her cunt son, Joffrey."
"Arya!" Jon shouts, aghast by what came out from his little sister's mouth. Arya ignores him completely.
"What's so special about being royal anyway? Respect should be earned, not bought. Just because they are born of highborn family, doesn't mean they can step everyone else below them." she argues, anger radiates off her body. "And… and they've been walking in here like they own the fucking place. This is our home!" she shouts at the last part.
Arya didn't even realize that Jon is kneeling in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. His dark grey eyes meet hers, lacing with concern. They stare at each other in silence for a while, accompanying only by her heavy breathing. Seconds pass and then minutes, before she takes a deep breath and calms herself.
"Little sister…" Jon trailed, looking unsure. "I've never heard you curse that much before." He finished. Arya chuckles, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, well, I save them for the deserving people." She said softly. Jon breaks into a slight smile.
"What's wrong?" His face turns serious again. Arya clenches her jaw tight, debating from within.
"Nothing." She settled, looking away. But, Jon makes her looks at him again.
"Arya, tell me what's wrong?"
Seeing that Jon will not let it go, she straightened, eyes determined. "What if I tell you that I saw something that I'm not supposed to?" she started. Jon frowns.
"Saw what?"
"Someone who did something that can be considered as treason."
Jon's frown deepens. "Then, you should say something about it."
"But, what if it's not enough?"
"Why wouldn't it be enough?"
Arya stays silent, leaving his question hang. She sighs heavily soon after. "Just…forget about it."
Before Jon can say anything further, she slips off his grip and runs off, leaving him behind with a lot of questions unanswered.
*
Sleep hasn't come by easy later that night for the young Stark. Not that it ever did anyway since she learnt about her time travelling. The truth is Arya never planned to tell anyone about what she saw inside the tower. But, earlier today, in front of Jon, she nearly told him everything.
She sighs, shifting to her right side on her bed. Though, thinking back now, it might work out in her favour, even though she cannot be sure yet. The Lannister twins still hasn't make any move. So she can only wait patiently.
When the moon is high up on the sky, she finally able to rest her eyes, although it only lasted for a short while. She hears a creak and on instinct, her hand slides under the pillow where a small knife - which she borrowed from the kitchen - is hidden.
It looks like the Lannister's finally here to send their regards.
Footsteps can be heard now and Arya can't help but to question this person's ability. Isn't assassin supposed to be as quiet as the shadows? Or perhaps her ears are always this sharp.
She hears again the rustles of cloth and take that as a sign for her to act. As she rolls off her bed to the other side, the sound of steel slashing enters her ears.
Arya stands up then, and found a man is standing across her, the bed separating them. With help from the moonlight, she can make up his features. His face is one of ordinary and he is holding a knife too, although his, is a lot longer and bigger. He pulls off the knife from her bed, leaving a huge opening around the centre, feathers coming out from the mattress.
"I was waiting for you." She started. The man shifts his stands.
"You what?"
"Cersei and Jaime send you to kill me, is it not?"
"H- How did you -"
"Because I saw them fucking inside the broken tower."
The man gapes at her, probably shock of her statement. Arya holds her gaze, quirking her eyebrow as she plays with the small knife around her fingers.
"Why are you telling me this?"
She shrugs slightly. "I reckon you want to know what it is you're killing for…" she trails, gripping the small knife properly now. "And what it is you're dying for." she finished with a smirk. The man stiffened.
But, not long after, he changed his stance and walks around the bed to her. Arya does the same, leading him to the open space of the room. When the man finally launches himself at her, she dodges his attack with a hair's breadth, a slight tugging at the corner of her mouth as excitement and adrenaline rush in. It's been a while since she feels like this.
The man grunts noisily with every strike he takes making it easier for Arya to anticipates his next moves. So, when he strikes next, she pushes it away and gifted him with a cut on his striking arm instead. He stumbles backwards, hissing in pain.
Seeing the open mark, Arya reverses the grip on the knife and dash forward. Her blade finding another open flesh successfully. He hisses louder as his flesh is being cut open again. Rage fills his eyes as he extends his knife arm all the way towards her, leaving it vulnerable for a counter-attack.
She ducks it away and send waves of disarming strikes, poking through him as much as she can. He stumbles backwards, nearly tripping himself and she wastes no time then, throwing herself at him with the knife safely piercing through his heart. His body ends up crashing down with her still on top. The knife stuck on his chest.
Arya stays unmoving, her face close to his until she finds his eyes are no longer seeing. She pulls off the blade and gets up, throwing the bloody knife on the floor.
"Valar Morghulis," she said her prayer softly.
Now that the assassin is dead, she has to do something else to make her plan work entirely. No one would ever believe that a little girl was able to defeat a trained assassin without a scratch, let alone by herself. So, to make it believable, she has to stage her injury.
She thinks.
Arya shakes her head out of her stupor. It's no use in having doubts now. She had make this decision long before the assassin had come and because this is the best solution that she can comes up with.
The assassin's knife is glowing from the moonlight, calling for her. So, she takes it out from the cold fingers and studies it. The dark provides little to her sight but the handle is striking enough, decorated with tiny golds and gems that screams typical Lannisters.
Not wanting to waste any more time, Arya reverse the knife, the blade is facing her now. She takes a deep breath, both her hands gripping the handle.
It feels like the time has still as she looks down to the pointy end of the knife hovering near her abdomen. She releases shaky breaths while trying to calm her nerves at the same time. It will not do well to have shaking hands before trying to make a self-inflicted wound.
With one last intake of breath, she thrusts the knife - just enough - into her stomach, hoping and praying that she has calculated the angle of the blade to not damage any of her vital organs.
Almost instantly, her knees gave up and she falls to the floor. The pain is no stranger, but it doesn't make it any easier.
No. A million times not easier.
She can feel her blood oozing out of the edge of the steel as she realizes with an annoyance that she hasn't taken the damn knife out yet. Her breath comes in short spurt as she kneels on the floor with a blade still inside her body.
Arya tightens her grip on the handle one last time and with another deep breath, she pulls it out. Blood is coming heavily now that there is no constraint. The steel clatters against the stone floor as she tosses the knife towards the dead body.
Her time is running short. If she stays like this without any treatment, she can end up dead. Pulling herself up with all the energy that she has left, she stumbles out of her room and along the corridor, groaning with pain.
Sansa's chamber is the nearest from her own, so she decides to make her way there. The wall is really helpful as she practically pushes her body forward against the stone walls.
As seconds go by, her vision becomes unclear. She keeps seeing things doubled. She also realizes that blood is dripping heavily from her open wound, leaving a trail on the ground. Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all.
She chuckled humorlessly. What was I thinking? Stabbing myself.
Arya finally stops when a familiar door is in front of her. She raises her arm and pounds the door with everything she has, though the sound is barely audible for her. Only silence seems to greet her back.
"Sansa-" she calls, but her voice is muffled with something else. It sounded like she's underwater. Her head slumps at the wooden door with a thud, tired. Before she can raise her arm again, her vision blurred completely and the feel of hard stone floor is on her back. She hears a creak before everything disappears.