Chapter 17: Arya
Arya awoke to fifty-six missed calls, fifteen voice mails and ten text messages. But those were the least of her worries. The fact that her head was about to explode and she seemed to have fallen asleep in the worst possible position on the floor, leaving her back and neck strained and pained weighed a little more heavily on her awareness of the morning.
She groaned.
Syntax Waif was nowhere to be seen. Still lying on the floor, Arya reached for the phone and began scrolling through her messages.
Synatx Waif: Out tutoring. Spare key by the door. Lock up when you leave and put it under the urn on the porch.
Jon Snow: Call me. Where the fuck are you?
Arya called him. "Where are you," growled Gendry's voice on the other end of the line, sounding very tired. Arya panicked and hung up. She ignored the phone calls coming from Jon after that. It was really unreasonable that Gendry use Jon's phone to get in touch with her.
Robb Stark: What's going on? Is everything ok?
If Gendry had gotten everyone into a panic over her not being home last night, she would throttle him. Maybe with her sabre. Once she could sit up.
Roslin Frey: Where are you? We're worried. Please call.
She called Roslin.
"Thank the Seven. Where are you?"
"I'm at a friend's house," mumbled Arya.
"What's the address? Edmure and I are fetching you and taking you to the hospital."
"The hospital? I'm fine."
"Not you, though I am glad to hear that." Roslin's voice was very clipped. "Sansa."
Arya had the distinct sensation that the world was falling away from underneath her. She gave the Waif's address, forced herself to her feet (the world still turning) and made her way out of the front door, locking it per Syntax Waif's request and sticking the key under the urn.
It was then that she took the time to go through her phone.
Most of the missed calls were from Gendry, condensed around ten pm and continuing, starting at eleven with some regularity through the night. At four am, Jon's phone started taking over the calls, and starting shortly thereafter there were calls from mum, dad, Robb, and, starting at around eight in the morning, Bran and Rickon. Roslin had called too, and Uncle Edmure.
Gendry Waters: Seriously, Arya. Call me. This isn't about the spying thing. It's important. Please call.
Catelyn Stark: Please call home when you see this.
Ned Stark: Please call me or your mother immediately.
Jon Snow: Holy fuck. I just heard from Gendry. Meet me at the hospital?
Gendry Waters: Please call. Sansa's in trouble.
Sansa's in trouble.
Arya stared blankly ahead, then called her father.
"Thank the gods. Are you all right?" She hadn't heard her father's voice in so long. He tended to work when she was free, and she worked when he was free. As a result, she spent most of her calls home on the phone with her mother, and maybe Bran and Rick. But Ned Stark's deep voice, no matter how agitated it sounded, calmed her nerves.
"I'm fine. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I was at a friend's house and my phone was on silent. I only just woke up."
"Call Roslin or Edmure. They will pick you up."
"I already did, they are on their way. Dad, what happened to Sansa?"
Ned took a deep breath. "She had a panic attack. It actually could have been a lot worse. She's been sedated and is at the hospital now. Your mother and I are getting on a flight out of White Harbor, so we should be there soon."
"But she's all right?"
"Physically, yes. I should go. I'm about to get through security. Let Bran and Rick know you are ok. They're worried sick about you. We all were. We thought you had ended up in pieces in someone's dumpster."
Arya laughed. "I'm fine. Extremely hung-over, but fine."
"I will see you soon."
"Bye, dad." Arya looked at her screen, watching as her father hung up the phone.
She shivered. It had gotten much colder over night.
Edmure and Roslin pulled up in front of the house, and Arya climbed into the back of the car. They rode in silence to the Citadel, and found Gendry and Jon in the waiting room.
Jon took one look at Arya and gave her the biggest hug he could.
"She's fine. She'll be fine. She should be up soon too, once they lift the meds some." He looked exhausted, unshaven, as ever, with huge dark circles under his eyes. Arya couldn't bring herself to look at Gendry.
"What happened?" she asked at last.
"I think some of it might be my fault," came a voice she didn't recognize. She looked around and saw the dwarf, and knew instantly who he was. "I was saying to your brother earlier that my actions were unthinking, and that had I known that this would have been Sansa's reaction, I would have kept the news from her until I could find a better way to let her know.
"I wrote her last night to warn her that Joffrey had been readmitted to Oldtown's University. He will begin next semester, starting his education completely afresh. My sweet sister," Tyrion Lannister gritted his teeth, "pulled some strings somewhere. I had thought that the charges brought against him would mean he could never be readmitted. I was wrong.
"Joffrey is a vicious thing. He wrote me yesterday to say that he would see to it that I lost my position. I can only assume that he will exact some revenge upon Sansa as well. I forwarded his message to the head of my department, the dean of undergraduate affairs, and the president of the university. Then I wrote Sansa. My warning, it seems, did more harm than good." He looked intensely bitter, revulsion on his face.
"Thank you for trying to help," said Arya, aware that it would be no help to the man at all.
She sat down and checked her phone.
Catelyn Stark: We're on the plane. Should take off shortly. I'm glad you are all right. Please send us updates as you can.
Robb Stark: I'm taking a train down later tonight. Shall crash with Jon.
Gendry Waters: I'm glad you are safe.
The last message was one she must have received while she was on the phone with her father, but her head jerked up and she looked at him when she read it. He was watching her, blue eyes clouded with something she couldn't quite understand. He did not look away when her eyes met his, and she found herself caught in his gaze.
She felt as though all the worry that was filling her was slowly fading away.
She wanted so much to tell him she was sorry, that it had been she (for once) who had been stupid. That she had been scared and it had caused more harm than anything.
But before she could open her mouth, a doctor came out.
"She's awake, and fairly calm. She'd like to see someone, though she didn't specify whom," she said.
"I'll go," said Arya immediately, still looking at Gendry. Then slowly, she turned away and followed the doctor down several hallways.
Sansa looked a mess. Her hair was lank, and missing in chunks. She was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes, despite hours of sedation.
When she saw Arya, she began to cry.
Arya froze.
"Oh, get over here, you great idiot," blubbered Sansa.
Arya settled by the bed and took Sansa's hand. "You're fine. You're safe. And if he comes near you, I will sic the fencing team on him. Ask Gendry—I have plans. And if he has goons, we have swords."
Sansa spluttered a laugh through her tears, and rubbed her hands over her eyes.
"I know it's silly—" she began.
"It's not silly. Not stupid, not anything at all. He did horrible horrible things to you Sansa. Of course you'd panic when you hear he's going to show up on your doorstep again. Well, not actually your doorstep. Because Jon, Ghost, and I will have something to say about that."
"God I hope so. I don't think he could survive you and Jon."
"And Ghost. Don't forget Ghost. Ghost would tear him to pieces."
"See, you say that, but last time I saw Ghost, he was rolling in the snow begging for his belly to be rubbed."
"I'm not saying he's constantly ferocious. Just that he has the capacity for extreme violence. He's like Jon that way. Cuddly on the outside, fighting machine on the inside."
Sansa smiled.
"Mum and dad are going to want me to go to therapy, aren't they?" she murmured, settling back into her pillows.
"I imagine so, yes. They'll probably go on about how you should have been there all along."
"I didn't think I needed it until last night," sighed Sansa, "I honestly thought I was fine. Can you believe it? I'm very clearly a mess."
"Not very clearly. Only…only clearly to people who know you well, I'd say. You hide it fine."
"I just didn't want people to think I was weak, you know? Mum, or dad, or Roslin, or anyone really. Especially not you. You're the strongest person I know sometimes."
"Going to therapy doesn't make you weak, Sansa."
"I know that. But it feels that way, you know? Like you need help to be strong, be right."
"That's not how that—"
"I know that's not how it works. But there's a difference between what you know and what you feel. And I don't want to feel weak."
Arya had never understood her sister better. She steeled herself, then asked, "Are you so scared of him?"
Sansa inhaled sharply. She let the air out in a slow stream, as if forcing herself to be calm.
"It's…It's more complicated than that." She paused, looking at the ceiling. Her eyes were suddenly bright, and Arya hoped desperately that she hadn't unthinkingly made it worse.
"Joffrey was the first person I was ever in love with," Sansa continued at last. "And I loved him. I truly loved him. But he didn't love me. I don't think he knows what love is. He was horrible, horrid, vile to me. But I loved him anyway. Even when he would beat me, I would love him, and he would always push further, as if he were trying to make me hate him, but I couldn't, because I thought he needed me."
She took a deep breath. Arya could hear how rough it was, could hear Sansa's force of will.
She was riveted. She'd never heard Sansa talk about this before. She doubted very much that Sansa had ever talked about this before. She wondered if that was what made her cry in her sleep.
"Sometime about a year ago, something broke. I don't know what it was, but I was scared of him. And he liked it. He liked that better than when I loved him. And he kept pushing, and I didn't know how to get out. He'd push harder and harder and I lost myself in it." She gulped.
"I was scared to turn him in. Robb made me do it. And I've been scared of him ever since then. But that's not the worst part of it."
"What is?" whispered Arya. She couldn't imagine there being something worse.
"I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know who I want to be. I barely remember who I was."
Arya felt her throat constrict, felt her own breath grow uneven.
"It's harder to love than it is to hate," said Sansa at last, "but either way, you lose yourself. I lost myself in love with Joffrey and I lost myself in hate with Joffrey. And I'm scared," she looked at Arya again, "I'm scared that I won't ever find myself again. I'm scared I'm gone forever. And I'm scared, that even if I come back, even if I find myself—gods I hate that phrase—" (Arya did too.) "I'm scared that I won't ever know how to love the right way. The mum and dad way. I'm scared I only know how to love the Joffrey way now."
Arya leaned over and hugged her sister, feeling the sobs that Sansa had kept at bay ripping out of her sisters body. Sansa cried quietly, though violently. She did not blubber or sob or moan. She just had trouble breathing, and trembled, and let tears stream down her face and into Arya's sweater.
"That," said Arya at last, "is simply false. You'll be all right, because I won't let you not be. And because you're scared of it, and in my experience, nothing motivates action quite like fear." Arya thought suddenly of Gendry, and wished desperately that she hadn't run off last night. "Also because you know that mum and dad are going to chuck you into therapy.
"And," she added, "if you love that way again, I'll have something to say about it. Maybe not to you directly. But maybe Nymeria and I will meet your boyfriend in a back alley."
Sansa let out a strangled laugh, and continued to hold Arya close to her.
They sat in silence for a moment, Arya's arms wrapped around her sister. She hadn't ever hugged Sansa for this long before. They weren't the types that hugged one another. But holding on to Sansa felt right, somehow, felt solid, felt grounding.
Then, "You don't think I'm weak, do you?" asked Sansa. She was trying to sound offhand, but Arya heard the desperate edge to her voice.
"No, I think you don't know how to show people that you're strong."
Fresh tears filled Sansa's eyes again.
"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she confessed.
"That's because it is the nicest thing I've ever said to you, Sansa."
Sansa chuckled.
Arya's phone buzzed. Sansa let go of her sister so that she could read the text message.
Jon Snow: Stop hogging her. Is she ok?
Arya Stark: She's fine. I'll be out in a second.
"Look, I should go. Jon wants to see you and make sure you're ok."
Sansa leaned back against the pillows, wiping her eyes clear of water and wiping her face clear of emotion once again. It was uncanny to see her do it.
"Look, before you go, I want to say something. I've been thinking it for a while, but…well…in the spirit of nice things and heart to hearts?"
Arya nodded.
"Don't interrupt. I know that's hard for you. But I've been planning this."
"Spit it out," snapped Arya, winking.
Sansa took a deep breath. "Since Joff, I have been having such a hard time telling people what I am feeling. I used to do that all the time, but now it hurts too much. So I've taken to doing what you do—you just tell people what you think when you think it. But I think you think telling people what you think and telling people what you feel are the same thing, and they aren't. You've never told people what you feel. And I don't think it's because you're unfeeling. I think it's because you are scared to feel things and scared to share what you feel with anyone." Sansa smiled bitterly, not looking at Arya. "You and I are more similar than you think, in that respect."
Arya opened her mouth to protest, then closed it.
She sat in silence for a moment, considering.
If it were true, and she wasn't entirely convinced that it was, it would explain things. And suddenly, inexplicably, she was crying too, looking at Sansa.
"Don't be sad!" Sansa was saying, reaching out to her, but Arya stood up.
"I'll go get Jon. He wants to see you." Her voice was too loud, even to her own ears, and Sansa flinched.
Arya fled the room. She rounded a corner and stopped, wiping her eyes.
By the time she reached the waiting room, she was convinced she looked fine. "You and I are more similar than you think," rang Sansa's voice in her head.
"Go on in," she smiled at Jon. She looked around. Tyrion Lannister was reading a newspaper, Roslin and Edmure were deep in conversation.
Gendry was gone.