She studied his mismatched eyes closely, the way they darted around in search for an escape, or maybe for the opportunity of attack. But she'd had years of experience, maybe not more than him, but more years then anyone would guess by looking at her. She was in fact, half a decade older than she appeared, a girl who'd seen more sunsets than the older brothers she hadn't spoken to in years ever had. Her adversary cleared his throat, sweat darkening the pale blond hair around his ears. He could beg for mercy, not that it would do him any good, besides that wasn't his style. In truth this had been harder for her than she expected, she never would have guessed Tyrion Lannister of all people would have challenged her as much as this.
"Bugger this." he muttered "Just end it already."
She grinned, a little smugly. "As my Lord wishes." With a delicate touch she slid her wooden dragon a few spaces forward, "It appears your King is dead."
The Imp reached over and dramatically flicked his King's little head, the piece nearly rolling off the board entirely. "I'd wager you tricked me." he growled from across the table.
"and I'd wager you underestimated me." she countered, "Now what's that saying I always hear? A Lannister always...what was it?"
"Pays his debts." he finished for her, reaching down to a hidden pocket in his tunic he pulled out five sliver coins and placed them before her.
She didn't move to take them, "It was three silver, remember?"
"Oh I recall, you recall what I was to get it, if you had lost?" he smirked and she nodded. "Surly this exceeds your usual payments?"
She bit back a retort and grinned, placed a finger on each of the two coins and slid them back over as she leaned in. The air was thick and hot in the dim room, and the single candle lighting their corner filled it with a cheap essence. "I'm sure it exceeds most women's payments My Lord, but I don't work here."
He frowned, confused. "You...You're..."
"Not a whore." she finished kindly.
Tyrion leaned back in their booth, his mismatched eyes looking at her in a darker light; less lustful, more distrustful. He took a drink of his wine, "I don't suppose most girls look for Cyvasse opponents in Brothels."
She leaned back and copied him, taking a drink of her own wine. "Who'd ever wish to be most people?"
"You're not a whore, but you'll gamble your body for silver?" he provoked.
"You wouldn't believe the risks I've taken Lannister, my body's hardly the worse thing I've jeopardized."
"And what would the worst be?" the defeated lion asked.
The grey eyed girl shrugged nonchalantly but answered honestly, and the little lion smiled at what he thought was a jape. "The entire fate of Westeros I suppose."
"Madi" the stern and very familiar voice drew both their attention. "Is she bothering you sir? She makes a habit of it." the dark haired women gave her a glare but Madi could only smile in return.
"That's hardly fair Bre, imagine how boring this place would be without me?"
"Places like this are rarely boring" Tyrion muttered half to himself.
"I'd much rather imagine our customers spending their money on my girls, what I'm sure he was intending to do." Bre waved a hand at Tyrion. Her true name was Brealla, but no one ever called her so. She was the owner of this fine establishment, a fairly up kept brothel for how close it was to flea bottom, a place people called Woodies.
"The nights still young, and guess how much you just made without anyone taking off their clothes." Bre only looked at her impatiently, "Oh just open your hand."
There was a moments hesitation as they stared each other down, Madi waiting for her to comply and Bre no doubt trying to stay stern. But she gave in, extending her hand with all the dramatics of the teenagers she had working for her. "Fine."
"Close your eyes." Madi teased, Bre's lips were in a firm line but she closed her eyes, and Madi swore she could see a hint of excitement being bit back. When Bre's brown eyes opened once more, they opened wide as she gaped at the two slivers in her hand.
"Madelyn" she whispered it as though she'd done something wrong.
"Madi" she corrected.
"I thought you didn't work here." Tyrion piped in.
The girls answered at the same time "I don't." "She doesn't."
"Gods, we should be paying you." Bre muttered extending her hand back, "Madi-"
"Don't, the money's yours." she stood up, finishing her cup of wine, "save me a seat tomorrow?" she offered Bre a playful nudge and the women gave her a grateful smile. "And it was a pleasure doing business with you, My Lord." Madi did her best curtsy, tugging her long sleeved shirt as if it were a dress.
Tyrion Lannister was not impressed. "You knew who I was the moment I walked in here, didn't you?"
"How could I not recognize the Queen's own brother?"
"The same way no one else did." he offered.
Madi gave him a long look, "I've never seen a dwarf dressed as fine as you unless he was a mummer, pretending to be someone like you. Not to mention the guards you left at the door, and the one sitting at the table behind us." she smiled politely as the guard turned his head, "and I figured the Master of Coin would be willing to gamble a little"
Tyrion laughed, "You're quite perceptive My Lady."
"It's Madi."
He raised his hands in mock defense, "Madi" he corrected with another chuckle, "might be you'd make a better Master of Coin then me, takes certain amount of intuition." he teased.
"After what happened to the last one?" Bre cut in aghast, "No, she's staying here."
Madi's eyes glowed, "That was a shame wasn't it? Poor man. Anyway this has been fun, but goodnight."
"You be careful on your walk home" Bre warned.
"No one's like to try anything with Deke around, don't worry."
"Might be I wouldn't if you lived someplace kinder, which you could do if you didn't give all your coin away."
"Not complaining are you?" Madi japed.
"No, but-"
"Good." Madi gave Tyrion one last smile before he nearly jumped out of his seat. Beside him stood a wolf that was nearly invisible in the gloom of the room. His face, ears, and paws all black, the rest a mix of black and a dark grey.
"The bloody hell." he muttered, "is that a wolf?"
"That's Deke, now come on boy." The girl gave a short whistle.
"And give your lover my regards." Bre smirked.
"He's not my lover." Madi glared at her before walking for the door.
"And stay out of trouble!" Bre added behind her.
Madi didn't look back, her ever constant shadow at her heels and a pair of mismatched eyes following her intently as she went. "Like I said, the night's still young."
The air was cool, the swift breeze ruffling her sleeves, tickling the pale skin underneath. A thin rain was falling so she pulled her black cloak over her head, the splash of the puddles echoed oddly inside her hood. Deke padded next to her silently, appearing as a distorted shadow in the darkness. Only when they passed by a tavern or the odd home with the lights still on was he truly visible. Arya Stark had found him on her trek south down the Kings Road, a pup wandering on it's own. Sometimes, she wondered if he'd been left behind by his pack, or if he ran away as she had.
Since she found him he had become her second pair of eyes, and almost constant companion. He knew her inside and out, better than Nymeria now, a thought that was almost bitter. Arya hadn't bothered to warg any animal after the day she left Winterfell, not until she'd found him. The whole thing reminded her too much of Nymeria, and she knew that if fate played as much a role in this time as it did in the last, then the family she left behind would have six new members by then.
It was a futile effort at first, trying to connect with Nymeria from the South, she had no idea who Arya was after all, no tether to reach out for. But Arya became relentless in her journey, waging any animal whenever she got the chance. She had to become as powerful a warg as she possibly could, the fate of the Seven Kingdoms depended on it. She learned each creature possessed an eternal warmth that was entirely unique, each and every horse, cat, dog, raven, or wolf. They were all different in their own right, warmer or colder, softer or sharper, thicker or thinner, and as Arya learned these differences she remembered how Nymeria had felt in another life.
A small weight had been lifted when Arya had finally found her, and in Winterfell none the less. Yet that weight came crashing down a thousand times heavier as soon as she actually saw what Nymeria could. Winterfell was deathly quieter than she remembered, a dark cloud hovering over everyone and everything, reminding her of the day after Bran had fallen from the Broken Tower. It was almost too hard to watch at first, but she couldn't bare look away, couldn't stop checking in on the pack she'd abandoned. Both her mother and father had appeared years older than they did since last she'd seen them, and it'd only been a few moons then. There was no way to speak to them when she visited, no way to apologize for what she'd done, no way to make them understand. Understand it wasn't their fault, understand how much worse it could be, how much worse it had been. Arya would have given anything to have them know she was okay.
For weeks she watched them through Nymeria's eyes, comforting them as much as she could. Nymeria had been left unclaimed because Bran had insisted she should belong to Arya (who he refused to believe wasn't coming home) and no one dared argue, so the direwolf pup wandered freely for the most part. But more often than not she'd fall asleep in Jon's chambers, curled up next to him and Ghost. She tried to make him smile sometimes, but it hardly worked. Her half-brother's grief echoed in Ghost and the emptiness slipped under Nymeria's fur every time Arya shared her skin. But the girl would search for her warmth every night to check in on them, seeing her family was far more bitter than sweet, but she just couldn't stop herself.
Nothing hurt more than the evening maester Luwin held a service in the Godswood, all her family had attended. Most nights Arya was the one who reached for Nymeria, but that night it felt as if she had reached for her. The scene made no sense to the direwolf at first, yet when the reality set in the fur on her back rose, and if a direwolf could cry, she would have. If not for her vision from the Old Gods, Arya might not have known she was bearing witness to her own funeral. Her mother was stricken, eyes red and swollen, Sansa was crying too but still hauntingly beautiful. Robb looked older with how serious he'd grown, and Rickon must have sensed his family's mood for he was unseemly somber. Bran had but a single tear that he wiped away, and Nymeria could feel the denial radiating off of his direwolf Summer in waves.
Eddard Stark wore his Lord's face, as Arya once called it. It wasn't the look of the parent she'd adored, but the one the whole of Winterfell had respected. Yet the girl could see the grief buried in those grey eyes. Beside him stood Jon, his face a dark pool that gave nothing away. Nymeria had padded over to stand beside him and her brother as the maester spoke, leaning her head against Ghost's. The moment her skin touched his, she reared back in dismay. There was anger burning off him, rage and such grief it tore her heart in two. Stepping back from him and her own guilt, her golden eyes met Summer's. A warmth itched under her skin then, her fur rising as the familiar feeling burned through to the girl hiding in the direwolf's mind.
When Nymeria's eyes had met Summers, Arya's had somehow met Bran's. They'd both froze at first, and icy fear washed over her, instincts freezing her as she tried not to panic.
Sister? The question was a whisper in her mind, but it tore deep into her chest.
No. she thought, No, I'm sorry. She wasn't sure if he could hear her thoughts then, and hoped he couldn't.
Arya? The voice asked again. I can hear you.
No, I'm not...I'm sorry. She fled then, she forced Nymeria's legs to move away from the only family she'd ever know, the same as she had.
After a few months Arya supposed it was for the best, even if Nymeria couldn't follow her path, she should still claim the Riverlands as she did before. A pack of hundreds of wolves would be needed in this time too, and even if Arya was destined to be the lone wolf it didn't mean Nymeria had to be. Arya would never forget her family, but not watching their grief every night in her dreams did make it easier to look forward, no matter how dark the future was.
The streets of King's Landing were empty as she walked, people hiding from the rain's touch, so Arya was mostly alone, other than Deke of course. In another life Arya had hated this city with a seething passion, wishing for it to be burned down or washed away from the world. Yet even when that did come to pass, it never brought her as much joy as she'd imagined; nothing ever seemed to bring her much joy, not Cersei's demise, not Walder Freys head, not anything. Now, not she'd ever admit it to herself, King's Landing had grown on her heart like a kind of benign tumor, one that couldn't be removed without tearing her apart. The unkempt streets she knew almost better than Braavos, the relentless half naked children always finding trouble one way or the other, and the people just trying to make a decent living in this shit city, (the smell was one part that would never grow on her) she felt a fondness for all of it.
Arya Stark had made this city her home of sorts, living in the shadows of the Lannisters and Baratheons. After her initial arrival, she spent the next four years (give or take) learning everything there was to learn about King's Landing. The girl knew all the streets, the best places to find a drink or cheap bed for the night, the places you were safe and the places to avoid, but most importantly she knew the Red Keep like the back of her hand. Maegor the Cruel had tunnels built that weaved inside and around the Red Keep, killing all the builders so that no one would ever know them, but she did. Some halls were simply decoys, leading to dead ends and random drop offs where you could fall and break a leg, but others lead straight to the chambers of the most important monarchs in Westeros.
The girl had yet to use any, not since poor Petyr Baelish died in his own chambers all those years ago. For now, as she prepared for the future war, Arya was just trying to keep the bloody peace. Robert still sat on the throne, with Cersei as his wife and his three "children" much more alive than they'd been in her time. The Queen's secret was still just that, a secret, and Tommen, Myrcella, and Joffery were all still safe, well as safe as any heirs are like to be in this world.
Arya veered down a dark street, grey eyes attentive for any sign of threat, her second pair of eyes beside her as they always were. The streets of this city were structured like a spider's web, branching off in every which way, and inside it's web flew it's little birds. Arya never called them that, but their master did, Varys; The King's Spider. He used these children to capture information in his web, sucking the city dry of all it's secrets, but what his birds learned so did she. To keep the peace is this city, she had to know a lot more than the best places to get a decent drink in King's Landing.
The girl sat down against the side of a rugged old building, the dark red stones crumbling and digging into her back. Deke sat beside her, ears perked and twitching at every distant sound the city gave rise to. She closed her eyes and listened, but not with her own ears. Distantly she could hear men laughing and signing, the chimes of bells and the whistle of a flute playing some chipper song. A rugged cough echoed down the street she'd veered off of, and their steps shuffled on the paved stone. After about twenty minuets of waiting she heard the familiar soft steps of a child.
Lexa was only two years younger than Arya, physically anyway, mentally Arya had seven years on the girl. For a twelve year old though, the girl was strikingly beautiful, dark brown hair and glowing green eyes that looked right through you. She was an orphan like most of Varys's little birds, a girl who needed money to get by like anyone else, too young for labor and too much pride to sell herself, so she dealt in a trade less known to the common folk. Some secrets the little birds found were worth just as much as any freshly forged sword or pretty girls maiden head, and Lexa was one of the best in the city at finding them.
The girl approached her as quietly as a ghost, sparing Arya a smile before kneeling down and petting Deke who gave her hand a welcoming lick. The girl's thin wool cloak was tied around her neck and dipped in the puddles as she crouched down, turning the brown fabric almost black. "Greetings Wolf" she whispered and she rubbed Deke behind his ears, but it wasn't him she was speaking to.
"And how are you Raven?" Arya asked; most of the people who worked in the trade of secrets, lived in it as well.
"As well as I ever am, I have news" she announced with a smirk.
Arya returned it, "You always do."
"Now isn't that the truth?" Lexa's voice rose as she placed both her hands around Deke's face and spoke as people do to babies.
She chuckled, "He's not a puppy you know."
"But he's so darn cute, and loyal I imagine."
"More than most." she agreed, waiting patiently for the girl to share her news.
Her green gaze grew somber as she stared into the wolf's, "and what requital will you receive?" she muttered to Deke before drawing her hands back and letting his face fall. "He has your eyes you know."
"They're grey" she agreed, but Arya couldn't say they ever reminded her of herself.
"Have you heard anything of the Dragon Queen in the East?"
Arya frowned, "I thought you were the one with news?"
Lexa sighed, "I am, but it's complicated and I don't have all the pieces I'd like."
She nodded in understanding, "Tell me what you know, maybe I can fill in some blanks."
"The stories of Daenerys have only been spreading and growing wilder this past year, whispers of dragons hatching and cities falling, they even say the girl has broken the slave trade in Astapor." Arya nodded again, as far as she knew she'd done nothing so far to affect Daenerys's timeline. "The King is growing restless, he wishes to take action."
"What kind of action?" she whispered, and Lexa peaked up and down the ally they were crouched in. "Don't worry Raven, if anyone were here, Deke would tell us."
"He wants her dead Wolf, and the Frog told me he's willing to pay a high price for her head. He told me they want to hire someone faceless...I don't know what that means."
The air felt colder at the word, and the rain that was falling lightly a moment before pounded on the hood of her cloak. "I do" she breathed.
"What does it mean?" Lexa asked, the innocent curiosity in her eyes giving away her adolescence.
"That's not for you to worry about Raven, be careful with who you share this with, here." Arya took the girl's hand and placed a single coin in it. "You won't see me for a long while, but Deke will be around." She stood and Deke followed suit instantly.
"What are you talking about, where are you going?"
Arya sighed, the all too familiar weight of the world resting heavily on her shoulders. "East"