Arya blew a short breath of air in her brother's ear.
Rickon lept three feet straight up, twisting like an eel, a sharp shriek leaving his mouth. "aaAAARGH!"
"Boo." She raised a brow daring him to try and tackle her for the scare. The fact he wanted to was pretty obvious. But, then she'd have to sit on him in front of his little friends. It'd be fun if he did though.
"ARYA!" His pale face left his cheeks a bright red as he glared, lips pulled up faintly in a snarl.
She let her wrist casually rest on the hilt of her sword. "That is my name."
"Did you need something?" He huffed with all the indignation in his frame.
The smugness would keep her skipping, metaphorically, for hours. "You and Lyarra, something about listening to the small council meeting." Arya's smile widened at the sudden alarm. "Think Sansa was planning on bullying some Lords about her marriage laws she wants accepted."
Rickon grabbed Lyarra's hand. "You're still the worst!" And then he took off running dragging the girl along with him. Before they vanished there was a sharp yelp as Lyarra whacked him upside the head as they pivoted around the corner.
"The small council meeting isn't for another hour." Lyanna Mormont said as she straightened her cloak, her breath billowing into white clouds.
Arya raised a half shoulder. "Well, shame he wasn't paying attention to the time then." Her eyes caught the face of little Robert Blackwood. She winked sending the kid into a fit of giggles. "My work here is complete." She turned on her heel, her cloak swishing with satisfying flair, and then she was on her way for more important tasks. To Wintertown it was.
Arya took a deep draw of her mug of ale, her feet propped up on the side table. The chair was pretty comfy too. Not as nice as Sansa's chairs in the family wing, but comfy enough. And it was clean, a thing she had checked before sitting on it. What with the location she'd rather not get some unfortunate stain on her clothing. She wasn't her sister's only spy after all. And Arya wasn't washing another bit of fabric in a creek to keep the laundresses from noticing something.
She was just polishing off her mug of ale, the soft hum of voices from down below seeping through the floor, when the door finally opened, and the room's occupant entered. "Finally, I was just about to have to hunt down something to eat."
"Princess, this is a surprise." The blonde woman shut the door carefully behind her before dropping into a curtsy.
Arya set the mug aside. "You're the one who left the signal you had something for me." She didn't need to indicate the window, bright holly nailed decoratively around its frame. They both knew it was there and why it was there.
"Hmm, and once more you failed to warn me you'd noted it. What would you have done if I'd had a customer?"
She shrugged. "You didn't have one."
"Princess." And Salna was chiding her now.
Arya slid a knife out of her sleeve, twirling it between her fingers. "It's too early for you to have already taken a customer, all the rich ones are panicking about the Queen's new marriage law."
"I'm not the one with a reputation to ruin, your Highness." The blonde glided to the bed, sitting down on one edge of it.
She snickered. "I wear the faces of the dead to become them. Anyone becomes a problem, they can have other uses."
"Hmmm…and your sister would permit you to hunt so near to home?" Salna cocked her head.
Arya raised a brow. "We're pack, who do you think I hunt for?"
"Since you're sure then, Princess." Salna artfully flicked some of her blonde hair over one shoulder. "One of Little Finger's creatures brought him letters from Harrenhall last night."
Her attention turned razor sharp. But she saw the pause for what it was. Arya pulled out three silver coins and set them on the table.
The whore's eyes caught the light glinting off the metal. "Two letters, the contents were not easy to gain access to."
Arya clicked another coin on top of the stack.
"The Company of the Rose and The Wolf Pack are now at Harrenhall. They've been promised land, coin, and protection from the crown. A representative of each will be in Winterfell within the month." Salna crossed her legs, dropping her hands upon one knee.
Wasn't that interesting, not what she'd expected. "I owe my sister a night in a dress for that." She let her head thunk back slightly. "I hadn't thought he'd dare."
"Perhaps wagering against your sister on the matter of what Lord Baelish might or might not dare would be unwise, Princess?" There was a certain purr to the whore's voice.
Arya groaned. "You're no fun. And she's got to be wrong about it at least occasionally."
"If she wasn't sure she wouldn't wager anything, Highness." Salna laughed.
Fair enough, ah well. Arya narrowed her eyes. "You've been taking bigger risks for information. Why?"
"I need the coin." The whore didn't bother with a lick of propriety, it made her far preferable to most everyone else.
However, the answer wasn't quite what Arya had been expecting. "Why now?"
Salna paused, her fingers trailing shapes along her thigh, more mindless than passively seductive as usual. "I would have expected you to have put it together by now." Her head fell to one side, her blonde curls spilling down with the movement. "Haven't you seen it yet? Every man 'er the age of six and ten and under the age of fifty will be wed within six months. If a smart match can't be found they'll take a poor one. The first babes of these marriages will start being born soon. They know they are probably going to die, best get heirs made. And if they're desperately fucking their wives, why pay for a whore?"
"Ah." Arya's eyes narrowed. "And with so many soon to die there won't be enough men for the women. Not even close." She straightened, legs coming off the table. "That bitch!"
Salna laughed. "Oh, I hope I'm not the 'bitch' you're referring to, Princess."
Arya grimaced, she couldn't exactly explain the various bits of whispers, notes, and arm twisting she'd been about in order to ensure various Northern supporters' daughters marrying south suddenly made more sense. She liked Salna, it'd be a shame to have to kill her. "Unfortunately not." She rose to her feet and then paused. Well, best ensure Salna had no reason to think too hard on who and why Arya might have had an outburst. Also, damn, she was getting too comfortable here. She dropped four more silver coins on the table. "Let me know before you retire from the business."
"Of course Princess." Salna demurred, but something genuinely fond lurked just behind her mask. "Consider it thanks for the sizable tip. Ser Oswold Wode has said several, very rude things about Lord Baelish in taverns."
Arya paused, paying for whores really had been a good idea. And Lord Baelish would not take kindly to finding out a House sworn to him, technically, thought he was the scum he was. She'd probably have to do something to keep the idiot Wode from getting killed. "I'll keep that in mind." And then she slipped out of the room, pulling a face on as she walked, vanishing into the skin of a man. A man had many people to see.
A man pulled his face off, and Arya breathed out. Through the change, she hadn't broken stride in the slightest. The worst part of being Master of Whispers was the dozens of contacts she was forced to keep. Not all of them were as fun as Salna. Or as useful. The cost was steep as well. After all, what she paid them, they paid a portion to others, and so on. Why they called Varys 'The Spider', was apt.
Arya didn't glance at the movement. The wolves were stalking her, after all, she was walking toward their den. She let her fingers stroke along the back of one of the wolves, brushing against her hip. Wolves made more sense than people. She felt more like a wolf than a human. Perhaps she was. But so was her family.
Nymeria stepped out of the deep shadows of the towering pines. Her padded steps were near silent even on the snow.
With a step forward, Arya caught Nymeria's head in her arms, burying her face in the thick fur, her fingers digging in to hold them steady, and also scratching at the right spots. She breathed out, and as she breathed in she was entirely Arya Stark from her bones to her flesh. Pulling back she met her other half's eyes. "Hey girl, you want to have some fun?"
Nymeria pushed her nose into Arya's chest. And well, Arya grinned. She slid to the side, and then swung herself up and onto her direwolf's back. The rightness settled. She let her head fall back and she howled.
The wolves in the clearing joined in, taking up the cry. Then, Nymeria's great reverberating howl joined in. And then they were off through the woods.
Arya stayed loose and fluid as she rode Nymeria down out of the woods and to the settlement of Free Folk outside the walls of Winterfell. They'd not wanted to be trapped within the walls. She understood. Rickon was the same way. No doubt she would be as well if she lingered in her home for too long.
As Nymeria loped into the small Free Folk settlement, Arya couldn't help her glee. She didn't have to be quiet or hide her teeth near the wild people here. Not that she did much at all to hide her teeth at Winterfell. The jumpiness was too much fun to avoid it. Besides, she'd get to stab at least one fucker.
Arya yawned as she dropped into the chair in front of the fire. The fire's dim light was the only source of light save for the few candles. She lifted her feet from the floor, folding them under herself to avoid getting her ankles gnawed on by Joramun. He was teething, and she liked her ankles. "He suits you."
"Who suits me?" Sansa asked as she peeled her gloves off.
She stretched, curling into the warm fur and pillows of her chair. "Joramun, he's a vicious cunt."
"Charming as always." Sansa's voice was dry as she unhooked the last of her outer layers, then walked further into the room. "Wine?"
Arya grinned. "Sure."
Sansa crouched by the fire, ladling the hot mulled wine from the pot by the fire into two mugs. She straightened, handing one mug to Arya, with a fond smile, before taking her own seat. How she made sitting look elegant was ridiculous. "I trust you had a profitable day?" Sansa lifted her mug to her lips.
"Some." She cocked her head. "You'll have a hard time with Tormund and the clan leaders."
Her sister hummed. "I expected that, I haven't been setting the board for the Free Folk for months for no reason."
Arya just sipped at her mulled wine. The cloying spice and sweetness bit at her tongue with its richness. "Some of the clans are threatening Tormund's command, keep Ghost with you when you meet them."
"Which clans are closest to revolt?" Sansa asked, her eyes narrowed.
She wiggled a hand. "All of them and none of them." Arya considered her sister. "It'd go better if you stabbed one a little bit."
"That could go very badly. I'm not a fighter like you." Sansa's brow rose.
Which, the fact that her perfect sister's argument against stabbing was that it'd be bad if she failed in the stabbing was hilarious. "I don't know, they say you stabbed Peasbody."
"In the arm, and was then nearly helpless till Daisy arrived." Sansa retorted, and good lord her sister was apparently willing to beat herself up over ridiculous shite. "And I will not break guest rite to prove a point."
Arya grimaced at the gentle rebuke. "Yes well, politics would be easier if you would kill someone soon. They like you well enough, but you're too different from their leaders for that to go far with you being…you?"
"And how do you propose I do that?" Sansa's voice was dry and faintly exasperated. "Murder is hardly a form of authority I'm trained in. Even if Daisy's made sure I have a chance at surviving long enough for her or the guard getting to me in time."
"Torulas." Arya's nose wrinkled. "He tells me when the next idiot plans to steal me, you be there. If anything goes wrong I'll handle it."
Sansa blinked. "And Torulas is?"
"Brother of the first one to try and steal me. I only stabbed him a bit." Arya wasn't sure what to do about the whole stealing thing. "And convenient idiot Svegir has been bragging about how he'll fuck me."
From the fire, where Joramun had been gnawing on a bone a loud snarl echoed out.
She snorted, her sister wasn't a warg like the rest of them, her arse. "You're my sister, if he tries to steal me, you're allowed to kill him."
"Fine, I suppose the neck since only an idiot would try and take you without armor?" Her face was disgusted, but there was a darkness there.
Arya tipped her head, she let the sharp spark of fury and anger burn under the surface. It tasted like bile. She wasn't stupid, had heard enough. Knew what she had accidentally brought to mind to make her sister speak and look like that. She shouldn't have mentioned the fucking. But, if her sister was already murderous, "You'll be more interested in what Little Finger has done."
"What has he done?" Sansa's voice was cold.
She understood exactly why most of Sansa's lords were terrified of her. Her sister was as much a wolf as any of them. It was delightful. And Arya fully intended to keep it aimed at their resident slime lord who would not be surviving long. "You were right, he's purchased the services of the Company of the Rose and The Wolf Pack from Essos and brought them to Harrenhall. Representatives from both should be here soon."
"And so our southern border is made secure." Sansa frowned. "And it gives him a sizable army, loyal to coin in the heart of our weakest quarter."
Arya just sipped at her wine, watching her sister contemplating the situation. She'd have ferreted out what to do fast enough. She realized that Sansa wasn't going to speak. Well, that wouldn't do. "Where do I push next for his plan?"
"Mallister." Sansa frowned. "And Sweet Robyn."
She arched a brow. "You mean the betrothal he's negotiating with Glover?"
"Hmm." Sansa took a long drink of her wine, her gaze was faintly clouded as she looked sightlessly at the time. "He'll need access to his gold stored in the south. Two large mercenary companies will charge steeply."
"He promised them land as well as gold." Arya's eyes stayed sharply on her sister's face for the faintest twitch, as she spoke.
There was a faint flicker. And then Sansa just looked exhausted. "Wonderful. At least that is a promise we can fulfill after we've killed him." She ran her fingers against her chin slightly. "Find where he is keeping his gold, and who holds the keys."
"You don't think the Ironbank?" Arya was rather hoping not. That was too close to the House of Black and White for her taste. It could get very dangerous to prod too hard in that direction.
She seemed to consider that. "He may have some gold there if only to help ensure they do not dismiss him out of hand, but he's not powerful enough to be willing to put enough gold in their hands to buy their respect." Sansa sighed. "He played broker for the more powerful with the bank. It's his value to them and his main interest. I never saw much of his books, but I would imagine he was skimming off transactions he facilitated. He certainly was skimming and funneling a great deal of the royal coffers into his own care."
"So it's a treasure hunt." Arya could handle a treasure hunt. "The Fingers then?"
Sansa tipped her chin up slightly. "Possibly, though I would be surprised, his land was of little use and his men there owe him little loyalty. So if it is there, what few men serve him there are not aware."
"Harrenhall, it's certainly important enough his ego would like it." Arya offered, she had a feeling they both knew the likely location of the majority of his wealth, and that wasn't Harrenhall.
Sure enough, her sister shook her head. "I'm not sure he's ever even been to Harrenhall."
"At least once." Arya saw the question in Sansa's eye. "During the war. I was Tywin Lannister's cupbearer. It was just after Renly's death. He arranged the alliance between the Tyrells and Lannisters." She wasn't sure why she hadn't said it before. It hadn't felt necessary.
Sansa's eyes widened ever so slightly. "And why the Tyrells would have trusted him enough to provide their poison for Joffery. I had wondered what he'd done for them that they'd have risked that." She stared at Arya again. "Seven hells though Arya, Tywin's cupbearer? How did you manage not to get yourself killed."
"I lied." Arya wasn't sure how to describe what she felt about the old lion. She'd have killed him like any other. But she…had respected him in a way.
Sansa scoffed lightly. "I meant more held your tongue enough he didn't have it removed."
She grinned. "I think he liked my sharp tongue. Thought it was funny. Let me eat his dinner a few times. You'd have enjoyed hearing him, always insulting everyone around him. And they couldn't say anything back because he was Tywin."
Sansa huffed, but a certain amused light was in her eyes. "Before it was terrifying, a member of the mob threw human shit into Joffrey's face. He squealed. Not as good as when you made him cry though."
"That was good, wasn't it?" Arya would treasure that while she hadn't gotten to kill the fucker, she had made him whimper like a girl.
Sansa gave a nod, amusement painted across her face. But then sighed, the humor fading. "Still, to the matter at hand, we need control of his whores. They'll know where the gold is. Likely in some forgotten tunnel beneath King's Landing itself, and entrusted to a hundred or so of his creatures throughout the city. We'll need to know where so we can intercept it."
"I have an option for that." Arya considered how to word this without possibly making her sister slightly displeased. Because if she knew Salna had been one of the whores Baelish had sent to try and seduce Daisy, her sister certainly knew. And well, they were wolves.
Sansa clearly knew what Arya was going to say was something she might not like. But she just took a long drink of her mulled wine, eyes watching her curiously.
"Salna in the brothel has been useful. She's intelligent, and the business of whoring is beginning to dwindle."
Sansa raised a brow. "It's a risk. If Baelish realizes then her death will not be good."
"She's already feeding him information." Arya shrugged. "And we just need the lines of communication. The rest can be worked through after we've fed Baelish to the wolves."
Sansa gave a nod. "Usurping the loyalty of his new mercenaries will not be horribly difficult. He chose them well for us."
"It's crap that he was dumb enough to hire both the mercenary companies of Northerners who told the Targaryens to fuck off and left rather than submit," Arya grumbled darkly. It was like handing them men who were half inclined to bend the knee to Sansa with minimal fuss.
Her sister had a sharp smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "The Riverlands are too destabilized to support an army of sell swords that lack cause to not pillage. Any other company would be too great a risk. He needs to make himself essential to stability within the Riverlands and the Vale if he hopes to force me into marriage to hold the realm together."
"Still crap. He's just handing you an army. Again." Arya tipped her mug up, taking a long draw of the wine.
Sansa just laughed. "They're sell swords who have not held strong bonds to the North in nearly two hundred years at the latest. I hardly think they'll bend to me easily. At least not while Baelish is alive. Once he's dead, what's important is that their contracts fall to me." She looked at Arya pointedly.
Arya groaned. "Which means you need to know exactly what is in those contracts. Fuck. Why do all your spy things involve paperwork?"
"You're plotting to assist me in the possible pre-meditated murder of one of your suitors. You'll survive securing two contracts." She raised a brow. "Contracts no doubt the men soon to arrive will have copies of which would be guarded less zealously than Baelish's."
Arya tapped her fingers against her now-empty mug of wine. Well, it would seem she may require a new face. Slipping into a small group of representatives of a sellsword company would not be difficult. "Cheers to actually getting to kill someone."